Splendor Restored
by BadMomma
Summary: COMPLETE YAOI A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Programs Director.
1. Arrivals

**Splendor Restored**

Author: BadMomma )

Warnings: AU (my first), limey

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.

Notes: First, what constitutes renovation related information in this fic comes from what I learned growing up and working for the engineers and architects that make up my extended family (and he whom I married). The fic is told alternately in Heero and Duo's POV; both refused to completely give up the mike, so I made them share. One voice per chapter, though. Also, told partially in first person, partially not. Major cop out on my part, I know, it just needed telling that way... blame it on watching too many movies. Last warning: I write like I think, or like I think they would think; so it will not be grammatically correct, it's more stream of thought than anything.

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Programs Director.

01Arrivals

The drive from the airport had taken thirty minutes thus far. It was now a pleasant drive, winding along the flat coastal roads, seaside greenery only occasionally obscuring the view of the nearby ocean. He could hear the waves crashing on the shore and they called to him. It had been years since he'd been anywhere near the ocean and he missed that. He so loved the ocean that this project would likely provide the nicest setting of any of the projects he'd worked on in years. He was very much looking forward to the months he'd be spending here.

Since graduating from the university, Heero Yuy had been working nonstop. He now held the position of Project Manager in the reputable firm of Dorlian-Dermail working alongside his best friend and college roommate, Trowa Barton.

The young men had earned their way to a place where they could now pick which assignments they undertook for the firm. The pair had consistently managed to bring their projects in on-time and under-budget; quickly gaining the respect of the partners and their coworkers. This project could very well earn them a place among the elite in their field. It would be challenging work but imminently doable.

The island resort, originally built in the early 1920s, had once been the estate of a wealthy family. After the depression, the family had begun converting sections of the estate into a hotel, in hopes of rebuilding at least part of their vast wealth. Over the years it had been improved upon, expanded and even renovated; becoming one of the premiere vacation spots in the region during the late-50s, 60s and early 70s.

Since then, the resort's appeal had declined dramatically and its splendor had waned. Families no longer vacationed in the same manner; preferring instead to visit theme parks, to experience the natural majesty of places like the Rocky Mountains or to hobnob with the rich and famous in the Hamptons or the Napa Valley.

That was why, about a year earlier, the resort found itself on the market. It was quickly bought up by two young and up-and-coming entrepreneurs who were determined to restore it to its original beauty and hopefully its earlier popularity as well. Treize Kushrenada and Zechs Marquise, sole owners of KLM Enterprises, were wealthy bachelors who seemed to have a Midas Touch. They'd invested their time and money in similar ventures only to turn around and sell them for a hefty profit. However, rumor had it they'd fallen in love with this place and were planning on keeping it. Dorlian-Dermail had already worked on other KLM ventures and had been rewarded for their good work by being offered first bid on the new renovation project.

Heero remembered his involvement in the previous project well. He and Trowa had been charged with handling the overhaul of the Recreational Facilities. While they had met and worked with both men, they'd worked more closely on that project with Zechs Marquise. Marquise had never failed to share his very specific ideas on the renovations; but he'd also taken each of their recommendations seriously and given them their due consideration. In the end, the majority of the changes had been a direct result of their own recommendations; but they'd managed to incorporate many of Marquise's suggestions as well while still designing for maximum gain and least cost. Marquise had been very complimentary of their sense of style, order and spatial dynamics.

Things on this project, however, seemed to be going differently. Both Kushrenada and Marquise had been very vocal and passionate in expressing their ideas, often dismissing outright the ideas presented in preliminary meetings by the project managers the firm had originally assigned to the job. Three weeks into the planning stage, after having only met privately with KLM once on their assigned task - and much to Heero's surprise - Mr. Dorlian had approached the young project managers with an exciting proposal.

KLM had requested that they, Heero and Trowa, be put in control of the project and be allowed to work on-site for the duration of it. While some on-site time was not uncommon, the length of the assignment was, as were the sizable bonuses offered to both the firm and the project managers for completing the project in just under a year.

That night, rather than going out to celebrate leadership of their first major project with dinner and drink, they'd ordered Chinese food and holed up in their apartment; brainstorming over how to pull it off. By the time they arrived in the office the following Monday, they'd already sketched out a tentative plan for the entire project and began at once to assemble their team and research the history and architecture of the resort and its surrounding community.

Now, little over a month later, Heero would be the first on-site. He still had some research to do that, it seemed, would best be done on-site. Marquise had made reference to someone he felt would be instrumental in achieving their desired effect, the resort's unofficial historian. Unofficial, because the man in question was actually their Programs Director; a local man a few years Heero's junior, who'd begun working there as a Cabana Boy while still in high school. Apparently the man, Maxwell, was something of a history buff and had gone to great lengths to gather as much information as he could on the resort; from its auspicious origins to its many changes over the years.

Heero was looking forward to finding out just how 'instrumental' the man would be. While Marquise did not strike him as a poor judge of character or intelligence, Heero'd often found that a client's opinions of their own employees' merit did not always coincide with his own. Truth be told, he and Trowa worked well together because they were both tenacious in achieving their goals and both had an overwhelmingly strong work ethic. Even within their own firm, there were people they did not trust to get the job done right.

On more than one occasion they'd gone outside the firm for help on certain aspects of their projects to satisfy their own sense of quality. They'd been pressed hard for justification the first time they'd done it; but after that first venture with their consultants of choice, they'd never been asked to justify themselves again. Their mutual friend, and occasional consultant, Quatre Winner, had jokingly dubbed their group of four the Dream Team. Along with Quarte's business associate Wufei, the four young men had tackled and surmounted all obstacles placed in their way. Many magazine and newspaper articles decorated the walls of each of their offices, all of them extolling the quality of work the Dream Team had performed.

As his thoughts turned from their relationships as coworkers to their relationships as friends, he reached the turn off point for the ferry. Taking the small road to the ferry landing, he felt a thrill go through him. This was the kind of opportunity he'd worked so hard for all his life. The outcome of this project could easily determine his future. Success or failure, it could make or break him. Failure would pretty much guarantee that he'd forever be just a junior associate in any firm. Success would open doors, be it in his current firm or on his own. Success would have made his parents proud if only they'd lived to see it. The thought of his late parents managed only to dampen his excitement.

Professionalism. Dignity. Hard work. Discipline.

He repeated his mantra as he always did when thinking of his parents. He'd not understood as a small child, upon seeing those words on the wall of his father's study, what they meant. Now as a man, he understood that they were a personal code. One his mother and father had done well to instill in him. It had gotten him this far, it would get him where he needed to go.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a portly gentleman waving him down at the entrance to the ferry. He slowed and greeted the man with a nod.

"Mr. Yuy?"

"Yes, I'm Heero Yuy."

"Ah, good afternoon sir, we were expecting you." The man turned and hollered in the direction of the a small structure that appeared to be the waiting area for foot passengers. "Gibson! Mr. Yuy's here. Time to get to work, son."

The man turned again and eyed the back seat of Heero's rented SUV. "Are your bags in the back?"

"Yes. Do you need to see them?"

"In a way, sir, yes. The resort doesn't allow cars on the property. Gibson here has a cart for you." He motioned the young man approaching in a modified golf cart to the back of the vehicle. "He'll be escorting you into the resort. You can park your car in the lot there when we're done unloading."

This was news to him but he unlocked the hatch without argument. Rules were rules after all. He'd known the resort was on a small island with mostly very narrow, gravel and dirt roads; but he'd not realized he wouldn't be allowed to take his vehicle in. Furthermore, it was a rental and he was distinctly uncomfortable with leaving it in an unprotected parking lot for days on end. It also dawned on him that he was uncomfortable with the idea of being chauffeured around. He was extremely independent and instantly bristled at the notion.

"I'll need my car to get around and I might need to leave the island." He commented to no one in particular while stepping out of the car. "The car's a rental, I'm not sure it would be wise to leave it in the lot."

Both men were already removing his belongings from the back of the truck and loading them onto the cart. But the younger man, Gibson, stopped to answer him. "Not to worry, Mr. Yuy, there's security on duty at the lot 'round the clock. It'll be safe. And you'll have your own golf cart to get around while you're on the island. As a matter of fact, I may need to come back for the rest of this. Looks like it's not all gonna fit in one trip."

Gibson scratched his head in consternation and Heero almost let out a laugh. His escort was obviously eyeing the box that held the portable drafting table and likely wondering how he would manage to get it onto the island in a golf cart. Even folded down to its travel proportions, it was still rather large.

Heero hadn't expected this situation and therefore hadn't anticipated the need for special arrangements to be made for his supplies. He smiled curtly at Gibson and motioned him aside; deftly opening the box and retrieving its prized contents. Once done extracting it, he balanced it on his foot and turned to regard the older man. Realizing he'd not caught the man's name, he 'ummed' and extended a hand in the man's direction.

"George" the other man supplied and waited for Heero to go on.

"Thanks George, I'd appreciate it if you could put the box back in the truck. I'll just carry this with me on the ride."

Both men nodded and moved to finish loading up the cart while Heero carefully placed the table in front, on the passenger's side. When they were done emptying the truck, Heero parked it where he was directed and returned to the men awaiting him at the cart.

"All set?" Gibson asked.

"Yes, thank you." Heero nodded and took his place in the golf cart behind the table. "Ready when you are."

Gibson lifted the radio that had occasionally been squawking quietly at his hip and called into it. The ferry was waiting for them. "Hennessy? It's Gib."

_/Read ya' loud and clear Gibson, this is Hennessy. What's your status? Out./_

Gibson rolled his eyes and shot Heero a lopsided grin. He mouthed 'teenager' before answering. "We're getting on the ferry now, should be there in about five. Get up to the main house and let the boss know Mr. Yuy's here. He's got a rather large package with him and I'd like to give him a hand getting it unloaded. Be better not to change carts at the Main. Have the desk give you the keys, let me know where he's staying and you can meet us there in his cart."

_/Roger that. I'll get back to you on the QT with the CO's answer. Hennessy out./_

Gibson huffed a breath and shook his head one more time. He turned the volume down again and clipped the radio back onto his belt. Putting the cart in gear, he headed for the ferry, shooting his passenger a sideways glance. Heero's amusement at the radio conversation was just barely visible through a controlled smirk. "Sorry about that. He's one of the newer part-timers. Hasn't gotten over the whole novelty of the radio. He thinks it cool to use all that pseudo-military lingo."

Heero waited until Gibson had secured the cart on the ferry and signaled the ferry captain to get underway. "How old is he?"

"All of sixteen." Both men barked out a quick laugh, but Gibson continued. "Can't believe I was ever that young myself. He's a good kid though; always on time for his shift, works hard, very polite with the guests and the regular staff. He's a lot better than most the high schoolers we get. His parents raised him well, guess they wanted him to hold a job for a while before he runs off to college. Get a feel for the real world."

"Shouldn't he be in school right now?"

"There's only one high school in these parts so they run it on split shift. He goes from 7 to 1 and then works here in the afternoons. It's what a lot of kids have been doing for years."

"Did you start working here in high school as well?"

To be honest, it didn't really matter to Heero, he was just practicing at being sociable. He'd repeatedly been told that he needed to work on it but usually found it very hard not to cross the line from sociable into personal. Something that, if he interpreted Gibson's reaction correctly, he seemed to have just done again. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

"Nah, it's alright. Yeah, me and a few friends started working here while we were in high school. Most of them left eventually, went away to college after a couple of years. I just never did, I guess. Got married instead and then…" He shrugged and left the rest unsaid. "There's only one other guy left from my high school days and he goes to school part time at the state college in town. Smart guy." He nodded, implying there was really nothing more to tell.

Heero nodded too and replied with a simple 'ah'. He decided not to try his hand at any more sociable behavior. He'd obviously gotten more information than he needed and likely much more than Gibson had wanted to share. They were quiet for the rest of the ride.

Just as the ferry was docking, the radio crackled to life again.

_/Gibson, this is Hennessy. Come in Gibson. Over./_

Again, poor Gibson sighed and shook his head before answering. "I'm here, Hen. Where we headed?"

_/CO says he gets his choice of locale, depending on their needs. Either Ibis or the Glades. Copy?/_

"Yeah I copy, hold on."

Before he had a chance to turn to Heero and explain the options, the radio crackled to life again.

_/Roger that. Will advance to the nearest locale. Advise of the decision. Out./_

Both men shook their heads. It was actually amusing, in an annoying sort of way. "I hope to God I was not that idiotic when I was his age. I'll have to ask Duo about it. I'm really sorry, Mr. Yuy. But these are your options.

"The Ibis House is like a Single Family home. It's an independent structure, with 4 bedrooms and 3 baths but it sleeps about 10 to 12 people if you use the sofa bed; it's also got a full kitchen, a dining room and a huge living room. There's a deck on the beach side with a barbeque and patio furniture.

"The Glades Quadriplex is 4 townhouse style apartments all connected by a common porch, each apartment has 2 bedrooms and 2 baths, they can each sleep probably six people, I think there's a total of 3 queen sized beds. All the apartments have slightly smaller but still pretty decent sized kitchens, dining and living rooms. Sleeping on the second floor, common rooms on the first. Each of the Glades also has an open balcony that overlooks the water on the common room level. I take it you'll be having company, so it's really your choice."

Heero thought it over for the moment. The house would be ideal for when the Dream Team finally got together, they could all stay in the same place and not worry about picking one place or the other as their base of operations. It would also be nice, fun actually, for them all to be bunking together.

The only disadvantage would be, that for whatever amount of time they'd be needed on-site, Dori and possibly Relena would also be staying with them. He really didn't look forward to having to share his private time with either of them. Dori was easy enough to get along with, they'd worked well together in the past and she'd been pleasant enough at the few social functions they'd attended. Relena might turn out to be a little more difficult. Though Dori often told him Relena's 'little crush' was harmless, once going as far as to say she found it charming, he found it nothing short of annoying.

Sleeping arrangements wouldn't be a deciding factor with either of the options; even if they were all present at the same time. No matter what, they wouldn't need to sleep more than six to eight people at a time.

While he continued to think over the pros and cons of the situation, Gibson had moved them off the ferry and sat patiently awaiting his decision.

"Where are they located? With respect to the main resort building and Mr. Marquise's office?"

"Well, the resort's main building is on the other side of the island from where we are now. The Ibis House is down this road here to the left. It's the farther of the two from the resort, but it's set off from the main drag. The Glades is about two-thirds of the way down towards the resort on the left; right on the main road."

"Hm. And you said the Glades is four apartments, but they share… a porch?"

"Yeah, it's one big building with a common, open air porch, and one central set of stairs. On the other side, where the balconies are, there are stairs interconnecting a couple of the apartments. The two middle ones, I think."

"But there are no connecting doors between the apartments themselves?"

"Right."

"The Glades then, please."

"Alright! We're on our way." The golf cart took off with a start and accelerated to greater speeds than Heero would have thought possible. Just when he was about to point out that Gibson should call Hennessy and let the teenager know the decision had been made, the radio crackled to life again.

_/Gibson, this is Hennessy. Come in Gibson. Over./_

"Idiot" Gibson mumbled under his breath, then answered into the radio. "Stay put Hennessy, we're on our way to Glades."

_/Roger that, chief. I'm opening up one of the apartments now. Over and out./_

Heero listened halfheartedly to the chatter, making sure that his decision had been the right one. Professionalism, he reminded himself. Had he let his personal opinions decide the outcome of a business decision? Relena's silly infatuation with him had hardly diminished in the years since they'd first met and while they usually did not work too closely together, it had driven him to distraction on one occasion before. So much so that he'd snapped at her in the middle of a staff meeting and that had led to strained relations with the Graphics staff for a few weeks. He'd later made amends by apologizing both publicly to her and privately to Mr. Dorlian. The man had been understanding and sympathetic to his cause; Mr. Dorlian loved his daughter but bemoaned her often borderline-obsessive behavior and had blamed it almost entirely on his wife's habit of coddling the girl.

Trowa had seized the opportunity to tease him for several days after, saying that he thought Heero had protested too much. Heero had not been happy with either his roommate or the situation at the time, but the incident had blown over and things had since returned to normal. Still, personal feelings or not, if she was in his hair and driving him crazy, he'd have a hard time keeping his focus on work. Which would then lead him to lose some of his disciplined manner. Which would, in turn, mean he might not behave as professionally as he'd want. Ultimately, he would not be working as hard as he should. There. The problem had been solved. Logic dictated that the best solution to the housing issue was that they make the Glades their base of operations.

When they arrived, a pimply faced Hennessy was eagerly awaiting with keys in hand and approached their cart before it had even stopped. "Mr. Yuy! Welcome to the Pirates Cove Resort. My name's Hennessy, Jim Hennessy, feel free to call on me if there's anything you need during your stay." He shook Heero's hand briskly then moved quickly to the back of the cart to begin unloading the baggage and hold a quiet conversation with Gibson.

Heero looked up to find Gibson relieving Hennessy of the keys and motioning them up the stairs. "Mr. Merquise took the liberty of providing you some basics for your stay, we've put them in Apartment B here, but if you'd prefer one of the others it'd be no trouble to move them. Why don't you take a look at all the apartments before deciding. I'll help Hennessy unload the cart in the meantime." He handed Heero the keys and turned back to the cart. "Take your time and let us know when you decide."

Heero nodded his thanks and entered the first apartment on the right. After inspecting all the apartments and weighing the pros and cons of interconnecting balconies, he decided that Apartment B, one of the middle apartments, would do just fine as it had slightly larger common rooms. Since he'd be here on his own for a while, he could easily work directly from his own rooms. Then, when the others began arriving, he could move their base of operations into the other middle apartment. He and Trowa could comfortably share the one he'd chosen, Quatre and Wufei could share the end apartment next to his, and Relena and Dori could share the last one. The one farthest from him. The one with no interconnecting balcony stairs.

Logic had again validated his personal preference.

After informing Gibson and Hennessy of his decision, he went back into the apartment to begin making room for the drafting table. The other men diligently moved his belongings in, asking which were personal effects and which were work related. Without his knowing it, they set up all his personal belongings in the master bedroom, which also happened to have a small balcony.

Between the three of them they quickly finished distributing his things and setting up the table in the dining room. He was handed keys to the four apartments, given information on the housekeeping options, a map of the resort and – finally – left alone to relax; but not before graciously accepting a small gift basket from KLM.

Upon inspection he found that the basket contained a bottle each of red and white wine, some gourmet cookies, crackers and assorted nuts and fruits. There was also a note from Kushrenada and Marquise welcoming him to their resort and asking that he enjoy his first day there by relaxing and settling in. They also invited him to partake of the 'morsels' they'd taken the liberty to stock his fridge with – the basics Gibson had alluded to, 'to start his stay off right and make him feel at home' the note said. Heero decided to open the red wine to let it breathe, then used the excuse of placing the white wine in the fridge to check out what those basics might be.

He was astounded at what he found. There was a healthy selection of beers – one domestic and two imported brands - specialty breads, cold cuts, juices, milk and sodas. He also found a tin of what appeared to be home made pate and a container of caviar.

If they had meant to make him feel at home, they'd blown it. He couldn't remember he and Trowa ever having had any pate or caviar in their fridge back home, and usually their store bought loaf bread was on the verge of molding.

Deciding to leave the red wine for dinner, he pulled a beer from the fridge, kicked off his shoes, fished his cell phone from his briefcase and headed out to the balcony.

He needed to call Trowa. This was just too cool for him not to rub it in.

TBC

01/13/05


	2. Acquaintances

Splendor Restored, Pt. 2

Author: BadMomma

Warnings: AU (my first), limey

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.

Warnings: Bad poetry ahead.

Notes: The fic is told alternately in Heero and Duo's POV; both refused to completely give up the mike, so I made them share. One voice per chapter, though. I write like I think, or like I think they would think; so it will not be grammatically correct, it's more stream of thought than anything.

Dedicated to Leslie 'cause "If it ain't 1x2, I won't read it".

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

**02Acquaintances**

At the sound of a quiet chime from the reception desk, Heero looked up from studying his notes to watch the only activity that had taken place in the lobby since he'd sat down twenty minutes earlier. A handsome young man, dressed in khaki slacks, a resort uniform shirt and hiking boots entered the revolving door that led into the lobby. Heero watched in amusement as the young man took several turns in the doorway all the while pantomiming his inability to escape, assured – by her peels of laughter – that he had the undivided attention of the desk attendant. After dramatically exiting the portal he continued through the lobby; smiling, winking and waving at her, all without breaking stride.

"Morning hon. Still having trouble with the door, I see."

"Morning Maxine. Guess it loves me too much to let me go."

"Your Girls are waiting for you on the patio."

"I'm on it. See ya'!"

The young man looked to be - at most - a few years younger than Heero but carried himself in a youthful, almost carefree manner. From where he was sitting, Heero tried without success to make out the letters on his name tag; giving up the effort almost immediately after exchanging a brief nod of acknowledgement. But as the young man passed not ten feet from where he was sitting, Heero's eyes were unable to keep from locking onto the hair that trailed behind him. Braided, it reached to the small of his back. He quickly tore his eyes away when the object of his scrutiny stopped at the other end of the room and began to turn.

It was common courtesy not to stare, after all.

"Hey Maxi?"

"Yes dear?"

"D'you know if the mechanic finished the maintenance on the big van yet?"

"Not sure honey, but I can check with George if you'd like."

"Would you, please? Meant to call him earlier but I got tied up. I'd hate to have to take The Girls out in the old clunker again. They have a hard time getting in and out of it."

"Understood. I'll give him a call right now. Anything else?"

"Yeah would you call Gib for me, too? Tell him I need the chariot out front in about 10 minutes or so."

"No problem, Duo."

"Thanks Maxi, you're the best."

"Hm, I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only the special ones, love. Only the special ones."

With a wave, the young man was gone and Heero was again left to his own devices. Bored and with nothing much to do, he looked over his notes one more time before closing his portfolio - they didn't need any further review. He glanced at his watch and hoped again that he wouldn't be kept waiting much longer.

Upon arriving at the front desk at exactly 10:58, he'd been politely asked to take a seat as Mr. Marquise's earlier appointment was running a little long. He'd spent the first few minutes of his wait looking over the interior of the lobby. With any luck – and if the rest of the resort was in the same shape - they'd be able to restore, rather than replace, a great deal of what was already there. He'd made himself a note to come back and take close up pictures of everything so that he could send them off to Quatre and Wufei for review. After that he'd made some notes about what he'd seen on his short trip between his rooms and the main building. Many of the buildings along the way appeared only to need minimal aesthetic improvements, just as KLM had claimed, but he'd be remiss if he didn't look into it more closely. He'd pulled his portfolio open and confirmed that building maintenance records were already on the list of things he needed copies of.

By the time the other man had walked up to the door, Heero had been ready for a distraction. And what a pleasant one it had been. With work considerations satisfied, Heero took a moment to mentally review what he'd seen.

The man looked to be about his height, slim but fit, all legs and arms but not awkward looking. He was also very handsome; a light tan on his face and arms, high cheekbones, pert nose, and mischievous, blue eyes. He'd also had a confident air about him despite his slightly foolish behavior. Something about him spoke to Heero of a strong character; someone willing to act the fool for the delight of others, yet not a fool by any stretch of the imagination. He found himself very intrigued.

Before he could give it much more thought he heard the call of his name. Standing immediately, he moved to intercept his awaited contact. The men exchanged handshakes and greetings, then casually walked back to where Heero's briefcase and papers sat.

They exchanged pleasantries, as was common, talking briefly about what they'd done since last they'd been in touch. Marquise asked about Heero's travel and his satisfaction with the accommodations provided and Heero thanked the man for the courtesies KLM had extended him. They briefly discussed the good weather they were enjoying. All the while Heero diligently worked toward readying himself to move to the more private setting of Zech Marquise's office. Just as they were ready to retire from the lobby they heard the sounds of movement and laughter coming from a nearby hallway.

"Now you be sure to try those on tonight, son. And if they don't fit right, you let me know. I'll fix them for you, straight away."

"Oh Sadie, I'm sure they'll be fine. And I absolutely love them! They'll go so well with the rest of my costume."

"That may be, boy, but try them on just the same. Sadie here hasn't made britches for anyone – let alone a man – in over twenty years."

"Now Mildred, don't you start in on me; we haven't even reached the front door yet."

A husky, masculine sounding laugh interrupted the oncoming feud. "Come now ladies, let's not be catty!"

The comment, rather than elicit offense, set off another round of laughter. As the group began to round the corner Heero was treated to the sight of six elderly ladies, dressed in their Sunday best, followed by none other than the young man with the braid.

Zechs Marquise, ever the gentleman, excused himself from Heero and waited until he'd caught their attention before offering them a slight bow.

"Good morning ladies." He moved to join them as they all replied in kind. "And where are we off to on this beautiful morning?" He shook and kissed every one of their hands and received a few kisses in return for his attention as they giggled and laughed through a description of their plans for the afternoon. When they were done sharing pleasantries, the group began to move toward the door again.

Before he'd had a chance to slip away with his gaggle, Marquise stopped the braided man with a hand on his arm. "Duo, a word please."

Duo stopped and nodded with a quick "Sure boss", but he turned back to the ladies just as they reached the entrance. "If Gib is out there, why don't you girls go ahead and get situated, I'll be right out." They nodded and waved their acceptance, continuing outside.

Marquise led Duo over to where Heero had remained standing, watching.

"Duo, this is Heero Yuy, the gentleman I told you would be joining us for the duration of the renovation project. Heero Yuy meet Duo Maxwell, Programs Director and our resident history buff."

"Mr. Yuy!" Duo said excitedly, nodding and extending his hand out to Heero, who took it and nodded in return.

"Please, call me Heero, pleasure to meet you."

Heero could not believe his luck. The handsome young man he'd been thinking about since setting eyes on him was the resident historian. He found himself pleased and yet nervous at the prospect.

"Same here." Duo continued to shake the other man's hand. "And don't believe everything you hear; unless it's good of course, and in that case believe it all." He smiled charmingly and then seemed to realize he was still holding Heero's hand. With a nervous chuckle he released it and turned briefly to check on his charges. "I'd love to stay and talk but my public awaits me. Maybe I'll see you around later today, or tomorrow. Just leave a message with Maxine," he pointed at the desk attendant, "about when you want to meet and how I can get in touch with you. I work weird hours so whatever's convenient for you is fine with me."

Heero nodded and managed a wan smile. "I'll be in touch." Then he watched in utter fascination as the man strolled away.

Beside him Marquise chuckled and clapped him on the back. "I've been working with him for nine months now and he still leaves me speechless sometimes, too. Don't worry, I figure sooner or later you learn to get more than a few words in edgewise. Come Heero, there is much to discuss." And with that, it was back to business. Marquise led the way into his office and Heero followed at a suitable pace.

The whirlwind of energy was gone but his affect lingered on. It would be a long while before the strange tingling in Heero's right hand went away for good.

There were a few hours left before the sun set and Heero was determined to make the most of it. After only one day on this island resort, he realized that despite the good amount of work this project would entail, it would likely be most enjoyable. After having met with Zechs Marquise for the better part of the afternoon, he had returned to the Glades with the intent to do a little scouting. It wasn't often that he had the chance to be on-site at so early a stage in a project and he looked forward to being able to plan out ideas from such an immediate perspective.

After checking his emails and making a few calls, he'd changed into shorts and a tank top, donned a hat, grabbed a small sketch pad and headed out for the shore. Several times, he'd stopped to study the architecture of the buildings or the way the structures coexisted with the habitat. He'd sketched different aspects of their designs, the things that distinguished them from the houses on the mainland and from each other.

In the time he'd been walking, he'd managed to round the top of the island, having just passed the main resort building. He'd briefly considered going back into the lobby to sketch some of the things he'd seen earlier – a supplement to the photos he would take later – but decided against it. A subtle calmness had settled over him and he didn't want to risk having it disturbed.

Thoughts of time spent in the lobby that morning inevitably turned to thoughts of the Programs Director, as they had at the oddest moments throughout the day. He did not yet understand what his fascination with the other man was. While Heero had no doubts about his sexuality – he quite clearly liked men – it was not so much a physical attraction to the man that had dogged him since the late morning; but an interest, a tug, like he'd not felt for anyone in years. That first tug all those years ago had resulted in one of his most valued friendships. But this… this was different.

He continued walking along the shore, trying to discern precisely where the man's appeal lie. Was it his open and happy countenance? His apparent ease of character? Or perhaps the intelligence and wit that shined in those mischievous eyes? As his thoughts consumed him, his steps slowed until he'd finally come to a complete stop. A murmur on the wind brought him from his thoughts and he looked about for the source. There, sitting at the edge of the boardwalk that ran along the length of the resort's main property, sat the object of his thoughts. Duo Maxwell.

Duo appeared to be hunched over a notebook, occasionally straightening to look at it or speak aloud before returning to scribbling furiously for a moment, only to repeat his actions again. Twice, while Heero watched from a short distance, he'd chewed on the end of his pencil, only to realize what he was doing and snort in apparent disgust.

Heero approached the bottom of the stairs without being noticed. The closer he got, the easier it was to hear that Duo seemed to be composing a limerick.

"Jeez that sucks!

_And everything that we could gi_…

No, too many ands.

_Everything that we could give._

Better.

_And share with you on this good day_

_Everything that we could give._

Everything tha 

"No, not everything… Anything. Yeah, better.

_Anything that we could give. _

Hmmmm.

_And share with you on this good day,_

_Anything that we could give;_

_But if we were like pirates are,_

_You won't get the chance to live._

"Damn, that sounds like shit. Never gonna get this done."

He scratched at his head and continued writing.

Heero had reached the foot of the stairs but was still standing slightly out of view. He thought about the limerick and tried to come up with something helpful; but all he could think of was a criticism. Taking a chance, he spoke up.

"You're using too many syllables."

He was rewarded with a surprised gasp and then a warm smile.

"Hi there Mr. Yu- um, Heero. What are you doing down there?"

"Just walking. I saw you and thought to say hello."

"Well come on up and cop a squat. Or better yet, stay and I'll come down."

Duo took off his boots and socks, then stood and turned to put them at the edge of the stairs. Heero noticed, belatedly, that Duo had changed into a pair of shorts, though he still had on the uniform shirt. The shorts revealed nicely muscular calves and thighs, something that the slacks had effectively hidden from view earlier. He found himself once again captivated by the body in movement, staring appreciatively at the man's legs, and had to force his eyes away. It wouldn't do to scare the guy off before they'd even had a chance to talk. He turned away from the sight and took a seat on the third to last step, tucking his hat into a pocket and placing the sketch pad between his feet. Best stare at the ocean, he thought, can't get in trouble doing that.

Duo made his way down the stairs, with notebook in hand, and plopped himself down next to the renovations expert. He smiled broadly once seated and then raised an eyebrow in concern.

"You weren't listening to me ramble for too long were you? I suck at poetry."

"It's not that bad but I think… Well I'm no expert either, but I think you were trying to use too many syllables." He shrugged in hopes that the criticism wouldn't be taken badly.

"You think, huh?" The Duo flipped open the notebook and looked at what he'd written. "I'm not entirely sure how to shorten it though. Got any suggestions?"

He held the notebook out to Heero, who took it and studied what had been written.

"Is this all the same poem?"

"Pieces parts. I just wrote them down as the ideas popped up. Some are better than others but… I kind'a need to put them together." He leaned over and pointed to a stanza about midway down the page. "I think this one should be my starting piece, and this one – maybe – at the end." He shrugged and leaned back. "So?"

Heero read them all. "These two go well together." He pointed at two that looked and sounded complete. "And… maybe this one too, but"

"It sucks?" Duo offered helpfully and grinned for all he was worth.

"N-No. I… I wouldn't say it sucks, just maybe needs a little work."

"Right, it sucks. Like I said, I'm no poet."

Heero reached for the pencil behind Duo's ear, but stopped. "May I?" When Duo nodded and handed him the pencil, he began writing on the page. Once he was done, he handed the notebook back with a small smile and explained.

"Here. If you swap these, and change that, it… might sound a little better. And then, maybe, start this line with 'for' instead of 'and'. It's just a suggestion." He tried a smile on again in hopes of smoothing over the criticism; but Duo wasn't looking at him. He was staring intently at the page.

"That looks pretty good.

_Beware you lasses and you mates,_

_Take care of where you creep;_

_For if you try to steal their loot,_

_They'll cut you in your sleep._

"Woah, that's perfect. OK, you're hired. The pay's not much, but I'm a very accommodating boss."

Heero was nearly speechless. "Wha- Hired? Boss?"

"Yeah, you can be my editor! I'll pay you, like, ten cents a word or something. The only condition is that I'll need my edits done quickly as the day approaches. Pirates Day is only a few weeks off and I may need some last minute work done. Are we agreed?"

The braided man's proximity and disarming smile were beginning to interfere with Heero's ability to think. All he could do was utter 'uh, sure' before having his hand snatched up in an energetic shake.

His head felt like it was swimming and he couldn't seem to get centered. All he could focus on was that open face, that enigmatic smile and those blue eyes that had taken on a strange hue in the setting sun.

"You know, your eyes are really cool."

Heero started when he realized that he was staring directly into Duo's eyes and they were only a few inches away. Instinctively he pulled back but regretted it immediately. His action had caused a look of regret and embarrassment on the other man's face.

Realizing he'd invaded Heero's space, Duo shifted back slightly and turned to the notebook in his lap.

"Oh, um sorry. I get a little excited sometimes and well, you uh, you have very nice eyes. They're very" he stalled, seeming unable to find just the right words. "Very blue!" he finished then quirked a half grin at Heero, bulling ahead. "I've never seen such a deep blue, either – it's almost grey in places, and it's cool how they get so much darker right around the edges." He grinned again halfheartedly and began playing with the pencil in his hand.

Duo thought the man sitting next to him was incredibly gorgeous and he was having a hard time keeping his wayward eyes and thoughts in check. He hoped Heero wouldn't write him off as a total nutcase because he was very much looking forward to their working together. He was also holding out the smallest bit of hope that the other man's apparent nervousness was indicative of an equal amount of interest.

"Thank you." Heero replied quietly after a moment of silence. "N-no one's ever really noticed before, or at least they've never mentioned it."

"Can't imagine why, your eyes are just" hesitated, seeming again to have trouble finding the right word "cool."

"Th-thanks. Again." Heero was stammering like an idiot again and mentally cursing his lack of social skills; this nervousness was not comfortable.

He stood briskly, picking up the sketch pad and wiping nervously at his backside. "Well it's starting to get dark, I think I should probably head back to my room. It was nice talking to you, Duo." He extended a hand out to the man still sitting on the step.

Duo stood and took the offered hand. "Yeah, thanks. Same here. Oh and thanks for your help with the poem. Do you… could I give you a ride home? Where did they put you?"

"Oh no, I'm fine. I'm staying at the Glades, it's not too far from here and I- I like walking. But thank you anyway."

"OK. Well, goodnight then, Heero."

"Goodnight Duo." Heero nodded and began to walk away.

Duo nodded in return and began making his way up the steps before suddenly remembering – "Oh hey!"

Heero stopped and turned again. "Yes?"

"When did you want to get together? You know, to start talking about the resort?"

Heero took a minute to remember what was on his calendar for the next few days, he wanted to have nice chunk of time open to meet with the Programs Director. "Whenever it's convenient for you. I don't have any other solid appointments until Kushrenada arrives on Friday. Tomorrow, the day after?"

"Hmm." Duo scratched at his head and thought it over. "Tomorrow's a little busy for me, how about Wednesday? It's my day off so we can take as long as we need."

A shock of thrill ran through Heero at the thought that Duo was looking forward to spending time with him – lots of it, but he quickly tramped it down. Business, he reminded himself, but couldn't shake the excitement easily. He took a few steps back toward the boardwalk so they wouldn't have to yell over the sound of the waves. "I don't want you to have to come all the way out here on your day off just for that. Thursday would be fine."

"Oh it's no problem, really, I live here." Duo shrugged it off. "Right over there as a matter of fact." He pointed in a vaguely easterly direction. "So what time should I come over?"

"Anytime," the older man shrugged, "when do you usually get up?"

"Heero, we could be here all night if we keep trying to be all polite and accommodating." He grinned to take any sting out of the words. "How about I show up around nine and bring some coffee and bagels, sound good?"

Heero smiled and ducked his head. He hadn't meant to be that obvious and it was entirely possible that he was completely out of his league; but somehow Duo seemed able to read him as easily as a children's book. "That's fine, but you don't need to bring anything, I have coffee and plenty of breakfast foods."

Duo rolled his eyes and let loose an overly dramatic sigh. "Fine, you can make coffee, but I'm bringing food and you can't talk me out of it, alright?"

When Heero hesitated, Duo lifted an exasperated eyebrow at him, "Alright?"

"OK." Heero finally acquiesced with a hesitant smile.

Duo rewarded him with a wide grin and nodded. "Alright then! Goodnight again, Mr. Yuy. I'm looking forward to our meeting." He inclined his head in a shallow bow and turned to race up the stairs.

Heero stood and watched him climb, waving back when Duo made shooing motions at him from the boardwalk. He realized he was still smiling widely even as the braid disappeared around the corner of hedgerow. When it was fully gone from view he whispered after it. "Goodnight Duo Maxwell, sleep well. I am very much looking forward to Wednesday."

TBC

BM2/8/05


	3. Possibilities

Splendor Restored, Pt. 3 

Author: BadMomma

Warnings: AU (my first), limey

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.

Notes: See first chapter.

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

**03Possibilities**

The crunch of footsteps on the gravel outside his open window let Duo know that he'd be having company. Figuring it could only be one of two people at this hour, he called out on the way to his bedroom without bothering to check who it was. "Door's open, come on up. I'll be out in a minute." Closing the bedroom door so he could dress in private, he heard the answering thump of footfalls on the stairs and the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Once dressed, he hung the damp towel back in the bathroom and headed for where his visitor was likely to be. As expected, he came face to face – in a manner of speaking – with a pert round bottom peaking out from behind the fridge door.

"See anything you like?" He leaned a hip against the counter and waited for his friend to emerge.

"Maybe. But I'm pretty sure you did, didn't you?"

"Well it is my fridge, babe, but I'm not the one looking." He approached the fridge and slapped the exposed bottom, eliciting a yelp from its owner. "And if you'd be so kind," he playfully shoved her out of his way, "dinner beckons in the microwave."

Hilde turned with a beer in hand and scooted out of the kitchen. She took up her usual spot on the other side of the counter and started leafing through some papers he'd left there, feigning interest in their content. "So?"

Duo set his dinner to heat and turned to regard her. "So… what?"

"So I was showing the Grand Ballroom a couple of hours ago and overheard some conversation on the boardwalk." She looked up at him through the fall of her hair and batted her eyelashes rapidly.

"Aw jeez, don't start with me, OK. The guy just got here."

"And?"

"And nada, Hil. Do you even know who I was talking to?"

She smirked at him evilly. "Well no, is he some handsome-billionaire-playboy here to sow his wild oats? You seemed to know. Seemed to be on very good terms with him, I'd say. Sitting all close and gazing at him all lovey-dovey." Batting her lashes again, she feigned a swoon.

It got her a flying potholder in the face and an exasperated huff. "God, Hil, you're such a dick sometimes, there was no lovey-dovey-ing. He's the renovations guy Mr. Z said was coming this week."

"And will he be?"

"Eh? What do you mean 'will he be?' He's here, you saw him didn't you?" It took a moment before her true meaning became clear. "Oh my God!" He looked around frantically for something else to throw at her that wouldn't break on impact or seriously injure her. "You are such a fucking pervert. I just met the guy this morning! He happened to be out for a walk, I happened to be sitting there so he came over to say hello. We were just talking! He helped me with my limerick, we made an appointment to meet later this week and then he went home. End. Of. Sto - ry."

"Oh! He wrote you some poetry, too? How romantic!"

That eyelash batting was really beginning to get on his nerves. "You know, just because your sick little mind likes to imagine me putting the moves on every hot guy that walks the earth does not mean that that's what's happening."

"So you admit that he's hot?"

"Well yeah, of course. He is." He stopped to wonder if maybe he shouldn't have answered that so quickly but decided it would have been a lie to deny it. He definitely thought Heero was hot. "But that doesn't mean I was doing anything about it, OK. I think your boyfriend's hot, too, remember?"

"Yes but we're not talking about my boyfriend, are we? We're talking about Mr. Hottie." She waggled her eyebrows at him which elicited another huff. "You gotta admit, Duo, the situation's got potential. He seemed awful keen on you. Didn't move away when you sat down, came back right when you called him. And he watched you go long after you tried to shoo him away."

Waving a dismissive hand, he turned from her at the chime of the microwave to retrieve his dinner. "Jesus Hil, I thought you were showing the Ballroom. What were you doing spying on me when you had clients to take care of?"

For that comment, she waited until he turned back to her and flicked him off. "My _prospective _clients were discussing amongst themselves, Duo, I wouldn't have ignored them just to spy on you." She frowned at him for insinuating that she'd neglect clients, but then took pity and tossed him the potholder when she realized that he was burning his fingers on the plate. "I'd spotted you sitting there when I'd brought them out to see the patio earlier so when it came time for them to confer, I just excused myself outside. Figured I'd take the opportunity to say hello but by then you were already heading down the stairs to sit with the guy. I had nothing better to do, so I watched."

"They must'a conferred a damned long time." He gave her a dubious look and shook his head in frustration at her meddling. Carrying his dinner over to his side of the counter, he set it down. After grabbing a fork and settling in on his stool, he gave her a pointed look.

She returned it with an equally pointed one of her own.

After a good minute or two of staring at each other, he gave up and started in on his meal. He reminded himself it would do no good to argue with her. At times he wondered how they'd managed to develop such a tight friendship in the short time they'd known each other. He was now much closer to her than he was to her boyfriend.

Shortly after she'd started dating his high school buddy four years ago, she had begun insinuating herself into his life and taking an increasingly active role in its outcome. Much to the amusement of their small circle of friends, she announced – only six months after meeting him – that she was taking on the role of his big sister being that the post was vacant and she was a few months older. Over the years, her self appointed sisterly duties had included harassing him about his grades, telling him what to eat and what to wear, advising him on home furnishings and attempting to shape his love life. The last being her favorite activity.

Although today was not one of those times, he usually found her meddling absurdly comical. Despite having been total fiascos, her initial attempts to set him up with numerous girlfriends had been very entertaining. The key, she had informed him after the first few failures, would be pinning down the right type of partner for him. He hadn't had the heart – or the guts – at the time to tell her just how far off track she was.

It wasn't until she'd accidentally run across him, lip-locked with a classmate in the stacks at the college library, that she'd finally pinned down his type. Despite his current annoyance with her, he couldn't help but smile at the memory of her reaction. After staring dumbly at the guy's departing back, she'd turned on him and huffed 'I didn't know the captain of the swim team was into guys!'

He'd actually been rather relieved that she'd taken it so well. They'd spent the next hour or so talking right there in the stacks. He'd admitted to her that of all his high school friends only one knew of his preferences, and that one friend had gone away to school. She'd encouraged him to tell the others and, like the big sister she claimed to be, she'd stood by him when he had. In the end, things turned out better than he'd expected. After the initial shock of his announcement had worn off, only one of his 'buddies' had decided to sever their ties.

Having hit a hot spot in his meal, he reached out and took a swig of her beer. In the process of putting it back, they made eye contact. Grinning, she tried to get their conversation restarted.

"So what have we established here?"

He swallowed the mouthful he was chewing and put his fork down. "We've established that you're nosy."

"Given. And Mr. Renovations is a hottie."

"Given. And his name is Heero."

She nodded. "OK. We've established that there's potential?"

"You may have but my jury's still out."

"Fine. That you might like there to be potential?"

He gave that comment only a moment's thought before responding. "How about that you're a pervert who likes to imagine guys doing things with each other when you should be worrying about other things?"

"I don't need to imagine it; that's what I have you and cable TV for."

Taking a last bite, he rose and took his plate to the sink, shaking his head. There was no reasoning with her when she got like this. Returning to the counter, he picked up and finished off her beer, but said nothing further.

"I think we've also established that I could be hitting pretty close to the mark on this one."

He held up the empty beer bottle between them and smiled facetiously at her. "I'd say we've established that your 'one for the road' is finished and today's head-shrinking session has ended. Go home, Hil, I'm sure your boyfriend is just dying to see you." He turned and set the bottle down in the sink. He could clean up after he got rid of her.

"That might be, but there's one more point to establish before I go, little brother."

He turned from the sink and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright, what is it?"

"That we'll be keeping an open mind about this one."

He raised both hands in the universal gesture for why, so she continued.

"Look, he's educated, employed, successful and most likely smart. He is running this project, right, and he can't be that much older than us. And he's good looking to boot. What more do you need?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about" he began ticking them off on his fingers, "not married, not attached, not straight, not psycho, not looking for a quick fuck, and not… not-from-around-here?"

"What's so great about being from around here? So what if he's not?"

"Uh, excuse me, I live here!"

"Yeah and? Like you couldn't live where he does?"

"Hello! Earth to Hilde! I met the man barely 12 hours ago and you're ready to pack me up and send me off to… to… Shit, I don't even know where he lives. Can you not see how ludicrous this conversation is? Please, go home." He waved toward the door to emphasize his point.

"Look, all I'm saying is that you should keep an open mind. Is that too much to ask?"

"No. Fine. You're right. I'll keep an open mind, I swear. Now go home please, I still have to finish my final assignment for class and work on the schedule for the festival."

For a moment she just stared back at him with a silly smile. He did his best to keep from smiling back but it was hard. After another minute he gave up.

His answering smile was enough to make her bounce in place a few times before coming around the counter and throwing her arms around him for a hug. When she'd exhausted her bounciness she pulled back, affectionately kissing him on the cheek. He ruffled her hair and returned the kiss, then pushed her away playfully.

"Go away! I have homework to do. Or don't you care about my grades anymore?"

"Of course I care!" She laughed and happy-danced her way to the door. "That's why I come by and bug you so much. If I didn't care, I wouldn't bother."

All he could do was roll his eyes; making her grin again as she pulled open the door.

"See you for breakfast tomorrow?"

He nodded once.

"You've got your last final next Tuesday, right?"

He nodded again and pushed off from the counter.

"You study already?"

He nodded some more and crossed to the door.

Standing halfway out the door she smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. "You gonna have sweet dreams tonight or what?"

All humor dropped from his face and he gave her a playful shove to get her all the way out. "Go away" he muttered – not really all that mad – before closing and locking the door. He listened to her descend the stairs, all the while shaking his head.

Over the crunching of gravel on the path she called to him, "Goodnight Duo!"

"'Night Hil!" He called back and made a beeline for his desk.

He really did have an assignment to finish before going to bed, though the schedule for the festival could wait until tomorrow. A stray thought made him smile goofily at her earlier comment.

Yeah, hopefully, he'd be having very sweet dreams tonight.

Thursday's were Camp Days, the day when the kids from the summer camp came to the resort. We had an arrangement with the yacht club, they sent us the kids one day a week and we entertained them. For a fee of course, but still.

We had different activities planned appropriate to the particular age groups but they all pretty much followed a single format. There were outdoor activities in the mornings; a dip in the ocean, a trip to the pool or some manner of competitive sport – soccer or softball or volleyball, sometimes sailing lessons for the older kids. Around noon we fed them lunch and in the afternoon we did some indoor activities; movies, arts and crafts, hula dancing, video or board game tournaments. It usually worked out well - mostly the kids were nice and well behaved. Between my staff and the camp's own counselors, we pretty much had things under control.

Being the Programs Director, it was my duty to coordinate, but aside from that I took great pleasure in Camp Days. I had at one time considered becoming a teacher and Camp Days allowed me to indulge that particular desire without having to give up my greater love which was computer graphics.

Mid-morning found me out on the patch of green to the west of the main resort building, where the main festival events would be held just a few weeks from now, assisting in trying to teach a bunch of rowdy 8 to 10 year olds the basics of soccer. We had set up cones on the ground so they could practice ball control, they were running relays back and forth between the cones under the careful tutelage of the hired help. I'd decided to take a break and was almost done checking in with the rest of my crew by radio when I caught sight of an increasingly familiar and incredibly pleasant sight.

Mr. Renovations Consultant himself, Heero Yuy, was walking the grounds; camera dangling from a strap at his neck, satchel slung across his back, notepad in one hand and one of those wheeled measuring things in the other. You know, the orange things with the big wheel that ticks off yards and feet as you roll it along. Anyway, Heero was milling about, snapping pictures and make notes around the back of the building. I got so distracted just watching him I forgot to check in with Charlie, my #2 guy on the permanent staff. Fortunately, he'd been listening in on the radio chatter and called in the all-OK.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler and used it as an excuse not to run right out and rejoin the soccer mini-clinic, just so I could watch Heero a little longer. The guy was damned cute. And he looked absolutely luscious today in a long sleeved, white button down with the sleeves rolled up, snug fitting jeans and floppy hat. Twice, I thought I saw him look in my direction so I waved; a casual 'how ya' doing, buddy' kind of wave, I thought. But on both occasions he just looked back down to scribble some notes and continued about his business, meandering farther away from the building.

How does that expression go again? "Fool me twice, shame on me." Well, he may not have been trying to fool me, but I was definitely feeling a fool. And had very possibly been acting it for several days now. Every time I'd caught a glimpse of him lately I'd gone out of my way to go over and say hello. And even when he wasn't around I'd found myself thinking about him, about what he might think or say about something, about what he was doing, about what we could be doing together.

I really needed to get back to what I should be concentrating on and not daydreaming about a certain young stud. I turned away from where he was standing, intent on stashing my water, grabbed a marker and put several big DMs on the label so no one would accidentally take it later. I was just closing the lid on the cooler when I heard the pleasant rasp of his voice behind me.

"Duo?"

I looked up to find Heero stepping into the shade of the picnic canopy we'd set up, wiping a hand on his jeans and extending it out to me.

"Hey Heero, how's it going?"

We shook hands amiably and he smiled, pulling the hat off his head and wiping his brow with it. "Good thanks. You?" He pushed his dark sunglasses up into his hair and smiled.

"Oh fine, a little hot right now, but doing fine."

We smiled, nodding and, in general, doing that stupid guy thing we all do when we don't quite know how to continue a conversation. He stuffed the hat into his back pocket and attempted to rearrange a few things about his person without much success. "Mind if I…" He motioned to the small card table where we'd dropped our clip boards with the schedules and list of campers, wanting to put his things down for a minute.

"Yeah sure, go ahead. Hey, can I get you something to drink?" I pulled my bottle back out of the cooler and placed it at the corner of the table, intending to grab another one for him, but I never got around to it.

His "Oh great! Thanks!" made me look up in time to see him chugging the rest of my water. He finished it off in no time and I was left gaping at him. I tried very hard not to think about his mouth being where mine had just been. When he caught my expression, he took a good look at the bottle, only then noticing my initials all over it. "Oh shit, sorry!" He had the funniest look on his face. It was a combination of horrified and… embarrassed maybe?

"It's fine" I chuckled and waved it off. "There's more where that came from." He still looked a little horrified, so I reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "It's fine, Heero, really. And I don't have cooties or anything, so you should be safe."

He snorted, the horrified look receding and leaving embarrassed out in the open. "Sorry, wasn't even thinking." He shrugged and turned back to organizing his things on the table.

I mumbled a 'don't worry' as I looked over at the notepad he'd left open on the table. I picked it up and we spent quite a while talking about what he'd been doing this morning and some of the ideas he'd gotten while making his observations of the main building. I confirmed some of his suspicions about the changes that had been made to the facades and we talked about what it might entail to restore some of the original designs. That led to a rehashing of some of the topics we'd covered the previous morning, our first official meeting together about the resort.

Yesterday's meeting had been enjoyable for me on many levels. Aside from his rather pleasant physical attributes, I found Heero appealing in other ways too. He was smart. Sharp as a tack. He had a quick mind and an amazing ability to grasp visual concepts without needing to have them laid out for him. I found him to be open in his thinking, flexible in his ideas; he was willing to seriously consider ideas even if they had not occurred to him. I could see why Mr. Z spoke so highly of him.

I'd also discovered that Heero had a quiet, dry humor which complemented my slightly sardonic nature well. Unlike me, he wasn't the type to be cracking jokes or making people double over with laughter, but he was really funny in a deadpan, demented sort of way. It was intelligent humor. And I'm nothing if not a sucker for brainy guys.

There was one other thing about Heero that I was finding really appealed to me. He had a certain… shy? endearing? sweet? quality to him I didn't often find in other people. Those words sound pretty lame when you think about it; but he was just unassuming, not full of himself, weirdly hesitant in his attempts to be friendly. It was like he wanted to offer his friendship but wasn't sure if it'd be welcome so he treaded lightly. I hadn't quite figured it out yet but I was really looking forward to doing so.

I didn't find that in a lot of guys nowadays, not if I hadn't known them for years. Most the guys I'd met recently seemed to feel this overwhelming need to determine what our relative positions were in some pecking order that existed only in their minds. That attitude was probably responsible for my near celibate lifestyle over the last couple of years. It might all boil down to the fact that most my long time friends didn't feel the need to prove themselves because we'd known each other for as long as we had; but, for me, the desire to not have to prove myself to anyone or have anyone prove themselves to me was paramount. Heero's attitude fit perfectly within my comfort zone.

I hadn't realized how long we'd been talking until the horde of soccer players began to advance on the coolers. Heero moved himself and his belongings to the far side of the table while I muttered apologies to Christie and Joe, the other counselors who I'd abandoned to handle things on their own, even as I began handing out drink boxes and water bottles to the kids. They brushed it off saying it was no trouble, but I still felt horrible. And then I realized that I was no longer grabbing things from the cooler because the drinks were appearing in my hands. Heero was there passing drinks to me with a slight smirk on his face.

"It's the least I could do." He said in answer to my implied question.

I accepted the help gratefully and we soon had our charges rehydrating and cooling. I let Heero handle the last few drink requests while I talked briefly with Christie and Joe, convincing them both to leave the pick up to me and insisting they head inside early for lunch with the horde.

It took another fifteen minutes to take a roll call and get everyone lined up and ready for the trip to the dining room. I radioed ahead to warn the kitchen of their arrival. By the time I turned back to thank Heero for his help he'd disappeared.

Except that his bag was still on the table.

I looked back out over our patch of green to see him already gathering up the cones and balls. I watched him as he carried a handful of cones in one arm and bounced a ball from foot to knee to chest. Repeating the action a few times before kicking the ball back toward the tent and going for the next cone. He really seemed to be having fun… like a little kid out there. OK, maybe not a 'little kid', but much younger than what I'd guess his age was, Mr. Z'd had said he was about my age.

Shaking myself out of my pleased stupor at his continued presence, I grabbed the ball bag and called after him. "You know you don't have to do that."

"I know." He called back and then kneed a ball high up in the air. Placing himself in just the right position to intercept it on the downward curve, he headed the ball right at me.

What can I say? I flinched. Gut instinct made me drop what I was holding and bring my hands up to deflect the incoming projectile. The ball connected directly with my forearms – about mid-chest on me – and I heard him bark out a laugh. When I looked he had an evil smirk on his face.

"Hand ball," he called, "possession goes to the opposite team."

I gave him a look that clearly said I didn't appreciate being the butt of his target practice and bent to pick up the things I'd dropped. "Yeah, whatever you say Pele. Just bring that shit over here if you really intend to help."

Within minutes we'd worked our way to a midpoint from opposite ends. As we were stacking all the cones and putting the balls in the bags, Heero cleared his throat. "Sorry about… before," he mumbled seriously, motioning at the ball.

I straightened and looked right at him. I almost laughed, thinking he was faking the regret, though he really did look like a little kid that had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"S'alright, you just surprised me, is all. You were pretty good with the ball. You play before?"

"Hmm. A little in high school, more so in college."

"Yeah? Me too! Well, I played with a team in the Y until about middle school." I smiled and began moving toward the tent. "We can just leave these out here for now. I'll come back later with one of the guys in a cart to dismantle the tent and take it all back to storage."

"OK." He agreed amiably and began pulling his things together as soon as we'd settled the equipment in a loose pile. "So… I'm Pele, huh?"

I laughed. "Well it was either him or Maradonna, couldn't think of anybody else right then. And I hate Maradonna."

"Yeah, he was an ass!"

"Oh shit. You could be Beckham!"

"Beckham? No, too flashy. The hair, the jewelry." He waved a hand dismissively.

"Rather have funny hair than no hair like that French guy, what's his name?"

"Who Petit?"

"No man, the other guy. From that World Cup they won, uh… Z-something, Zanzeen? You know!"

"Zenadine."

"Yeah that's him."

"He's a very good player."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'd rather have cool hair and be famous like Beckham. Z-man didn't get a movie named after him, you know." He laughed quietly as I pulled two waters from the cooler; handing him one and sitting against the edge of the small table. "Do you follow FIFA play?"

"A bit." He'd finished gathering his things and stood sipping his water, waiting for me to elaborate.

"Are you doing anything Saturday afternoon? Cause if you're not, wanna come watch some EuroCup games with me? I'm meeting some friends at a sports bar in town. We're gonna watch the afternoon game and maybe hang out for a while. Play some pool and stuff. Should be fun!"

He thought about it for a minute before nodding his acceptance. "Sure, I'd like that."

"Cool!" I hopped back up and we talked some more about soccer.

That slight tentativeness that always seemed to enshroud him receded just a bit. I guess he was just one of those people that kept quiet unless he felt very comfortable with his situation or found a topic he really liked. Several minutes passed again as we talked and it was with some reluctance that I realized it was time to part company. I couldn't put off going back inside any longer. I didn't so much mind missing lunch – I'm sure Lucy would let me raid the kitchen later – but I really needed to get back to work. He probably did too.

We said our goodbyes; I pointed out the direction I was headed and he pointed off the other way. We programmed each other's numbers into our cells, him promising to get in touch with me about the details for Saturday before we head off. It wasn't until I found the dining room empty of campers and councilors alike that I realized just how much time had actually passed.

I was really starting to enjoy spending time with this guy.

TBC


	4. Meeting

Splendor Restored

Chapter 4

Author: BadMomma

Warnings: AU, limey

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Archived: GWA, Under the Bridge

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered. To Klingonpoo. Cause if it ain't 1x2 she won't read it.

Notes: Thanks to Link for giving this a read through and some rather amusing feedback. Heero's POV. The "/" denote emphasis on a word.

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

04 Meeting

They're walking down the path that leads from the staff housing area very closely. Perhaps just a little too closely. I'm pretty sure that 'just friends' don't usually walk so close together that they constantly bump into each other. From what I've observed of other people, bumping into someone when you're walking next to them usually causes both people to be a little more careful. But not these two. They repeatedly bump hands, arms, shoulders and hips, as if it was normal, neither one seeming to make any effort to avoid it. It occurs to me again that despite his repeated use of the phrase, 'friends' might not be an adequate description of what they are.

When I'd seen them this morning at the departmental staff meeting, they had been standing at the beverage table in the back of the room. I did not have a chance to say hello, and since I arrived with Marquise, the meeting had immediately been called to order. In the process of grabbing a seat, I'd made eye contact with Duo and we'd exchanged quick nods of greeting. But the two of them chose seats at the back of the room and I, being Marquise's guest at the gathering, had no choice but to remain with him at the front. Not that I was necessarily convinced Duo would want to sit with me, but my mind was eager to suggest the idea as soon as I saw him.

I watched the pair in the back of the room throughout the course of the meeting as the different department heads and assistants delivered their reports. They had pulled their chairs close together and were discretely carrying on a conversation, occasionally making use of Duo's portfolio to view something they wanted to keep hidden, each taking turns to minutely nod or shake their heads over whatever was secretly on display in front of them.

Like most the other representatives in attendance, she seemed to listen with only half an ear throughout most of the meeting, only occasionally looking up from whatever had kept their interest. But that was not the case when he spoke. When it was Duo's turn to deliver his report, she had watched him closely. She had not paid as rapt attention to anyone else, not even her own department head. Her gaze on him was so intense and all encompassing, you would have thought he was delivering a wrenching dissertation on the future of humanity and not a status report of his preparations for the upcoming festival or announcing changes to the calendar of resort activities.

It was then that I began to suspect that she might be enamored with him.

When the meeting ended I had lingered, making appointments with several of the department chairs, which would keep me fairly busy for the next two weeks. Just as I was making a last note in my binder, I sensed their presence next me.

Duo introduced me to her - Hilde something or other - and explained that she was on the Events and Catering Staff, Lucrezia Noin's department. He told me that the two of them often worked closely to avoid conflicts when scheduling the resort facilities. He suggested it might be a good idea for him to attend my meeting with her and her boss to insure that his needs concerning the facilities they shared were met as well. I initially agreed without hesitation but then had to rethink it. What if Ms. Noin – 'Lucy, if you would, please' – did not appreciate my bringing another party in on her meeting?

I shared that thought out loud and it brought a burst of laughter from both of them. They practically had to hold each other up to keep from falling over. When they had recovered themselves enough to stand on their own again, Hilde asked about the date and time of my appointment with her department head. Stating that it was scheduled for 4:30PM on Thursday served no purpose other than to bring on another bout of hysterics.

Ms. Noin chose that moment to return and chided them both for their behavior. It wasn't long before I figured out why they'd thought the timing of my appointment was so funny. It seems the director of Events and Catering is a bit of a social butterfly and makes it a point to coerce any new blood, as they called it, into attending the staff's monthly Thursday afternoon Happy Hour. Apparently she makes it a habit to schedule appointments right before the Happy Hour so she can drag the unsuspecting newbies to the event.

With an embarrassed flush on her face, she managed to wring acceptance out of me before physically dragging Hilde off behind her. Before being hauled completely out of the room, Hilde turned and called back to Duo. She reminded him of their own appointment this Tuesday night at eight and instructed him to remember to bring his jammies. He would apparently be spending the night.

A sharp bark of laughter interrupts my thoughts and I realize that they've reached the point of parting. If their gestures are any indication, Hilde is heading indoors and Duo is heading toward the pool. They exchange a few words and a quick hug and he makes to walk off but she stops him before he gets too far. His expression goes from jovial to serious in about half a second. He tilts his head at her and appears to ask what it's about. After a moment of hesitation and a slight tousle of the head, she answers him.

Whatever she has said has shocked the hell out of him. His eyes grow comically wide and his mouth hangs open. He takes a step back and looks her over head to toe. His mouth snaps shut and then opens again. I clearly make out the one word he says to her. 'Really?' She nods once, very dramatically, and they hold eye contact.

What happens next reminds me of a scene from a comedy anime I'd seen once; where the one comedic character – who frequently appears with stars or hearts in their eyes – makes some incredulous announcement to their straight-man friend and long-time companion. The dialogue I hear in my head matches their reactions perfectly.

The exchange ends as expected, with much giggling and squealing on her part and a raucous laugh and bear hug from him. He literally picks her up off the floor with the hug and spins her around. From where I sit I can hear him saying 'Oh my God, Hil, that's great! I'm so happy!'

His happiness is infectious and I can't help but smile myself. I have no idea what this great thing is that she's just shared and I can't help the little thrill that goes through me at the thought that I get to witness such unabashed joy from him.

They break from their revelry and exchange a few quiet, serious words and one last hug before he starts to walk away again, shaking his head in afterthought. She watches him for a moment, almost beaming with her own joy, but when she begins to turn he calls back at her.

"Sure you wanna get married?"

She nods enthusiastically and he shrugs in response.

"OK then!" he says and shakes his head again before turning to walk away.

The thrill I'd experienced just moments ago turns into a black hole in my gut. Married? They're getting married? Did she just accept his proposal? God, my world has just turned on its axis again.

Granted I hardly know him and have even less right to lay claim to him, but in the week that I've been here I've come to realize just how attracted to him I am. Was it just my imagination and desire that was painting possibilities for an 'us' in my mind? Every time I've crossed paths with him, he's made it a point to come over and say hello with a lingering handshake or a casual touch to my arm or shoulder. And there have been other occasions, times when he has sought me out, requested my company, expressed his gratitude for my presence. Could it be that my own desire had blinded me to the fact that his behavior with me is the same as it is with everyone else? I wouldn't have thought so.

Not five days ago, Wednesday of last week, he came to my apartment dressed simply in shorts and a polo shirt. He'd brought more food than we'd agreed to and way more than both of us could eat in a week of breakfasts. He was so warm and friendly that he'd set me at ease with his teasingly casual nature.

What I'd thought would be a couple of hours of mostly business-like discussion huddled at the desk or drafting table had turned into many hours of easy conversation spread out over the whole of the apartment. We'd shared breakfast on the balcony. We'd talked while cleaning up both outside and in the kitchen. Then we'd sat on the couch and continued our conversation, weaving off and on the scheduled topic.

He'd stayed well into the early afternoon, mostly talking about the resort's history. When we moved to the drafting table so I could show him a few ideas I'd sketched out and some improvements I felt would be needed, he'd stood at my shoulder and commented freely. He would occasionally lean over or across me to point at things, share his thoughts or sketch out changes. Then he'd taken over the chair and centered himself at the drawing table, roughly illustrating for me the stages of the resort's growth over the years, from the layout of the original structures to what it was now. He gave me candid and thoughtful insight into its gradual expansion. Eventually, when I had to end our time together because of a conference call, he'd promised to return the following Wednesday, practically begging me to agree to make it a regular event between us.

I'd agreed without the slightest hesitation. I'd been so sure that it was a sign of his interest in more than just the project. No one had ever expressed the desire to spend that much time with me individually, not without wanting more from me than just my time. No one, that is, except Trowa. And yet there he was, offering to give up a chunk of his limited free time on the one day he had no work or school commitments. He seemed eager to give it up. To spend time with me.

And then there was last Saturday. What was originally supposed to be just a few afternoon hours watching a game with his friends turned into a full day of… all sorts of things.

The day started rather unexpectedly with us helping his uncle move equipment and supplies from his house to his boat to accommodate a two week charter trip the old man had been hired for. Once done loading the boat, we headed back to the house to drop off the man's truck before heading to the local ale house.

The soccer game and lunch with a small group of friends segued into several rounds of pool and quite a few beers. As everyone was leaving, he suggested a quick stop in the mall adjacent to the pub to allow for some of the alcohol we'd consumed to burn off. Our 'quick' mall stop started with a visit to the video arcade for a little friendly competition. That was followed by a detour to the music store for his favorite group's new CD, the food court for an ice cream and a kiosk in the center of the mall for a new watch band.

It was an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon with a friend and, technically, there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. Except that I'd walked away from the day with an added sense of comfort and warmth at his part in it.

I admit that I'd been a little nervous about meeting his friends; I'm not exactly the best person in social settings and I often find myself feeling a bit out of my element. But Duo had helped ease me into their small circle. He never abandoned me to fend for myself with what amounted to perfect strangers. He worked hard to include me in their conversations, giving me back-story whenever some insider remark was made. He dropped hints, often in the form of teasing remarks, to give me insight into his friends.

But that wasn't the whole of it and it certainly wasn't what had surprised me the most, or what had led me to the confused state I was in now. He had also exhibited a physical closeness to me that had, on more than one occasion, garnered an odd look from one of his friends. It started innocently enough with the typical male shoulder-bump to emphasize some point of conversation. It extended to a possessiveness that included physically pushing one of his friends out of the chair next to me when we sat down to eat because I was 'his guest' and not theirs. He ate food off my plate, sipped at my beer when he ran out, and paid my tab in gratitude for my help that morning.

Then there was his behavior while we had played pool. Under the pretense of quietly discussing strategy, he'd hook an arm over my shoulder and lean in close to talk to me. Half the things he said were nonsense; the move was designed more to insinuate a strategy to our opponents than anything else. But then when everyone began switching partners to improve their chances of winning, he'd steadfastly refused to give me up, saying that I was his ace and they couldn't have me. There was also more of that incidental contact I'd been getting all week: a lingering pat on the shoulder, a push in the back when it was my turn, the high-fives when we did something right or our opponents something wrong, the one-armed neck hug when we won, a gentle elbow to the ribs when we lost, the rap of a cue against my leg to get my attention, and standing shoulder to shoulder for no reason at all.

If it had ended there, I might not have thought much of it. He had, after all, brought me into his circle of friends. It wasn't inconceivable that it was his way of making me feel a welcomed part of the group. It might also have been explained by the notion that in a way he was responsible for me; my place in this scheme was in direct relation to him. If he could show his friends that he was completely comfortable with me, they would be too. But it hadn't ended there. Our whirlwind tour of the mall had included much of the same behavior and so it was that I'd walked away from the experience with a certitude that there was more to it than met the eye.

"-uy? Excuse me, Mr. Yuy?"

I am brought out of my mental meandering by his friend – fiancée? – trying to catch my attention only to realize that I've been staring at the spot he last occupied.

"Miss…?"

"Schbeiker, but please just call me Hilde."

"Aa, Hilde. Please call me Heero. What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering if you were done with that?" She points at my near empty plate. "I was just going through to the kitchens. I can take that with me if you're done. Can I get you something else? Dessert or coffee; an espresso maybe?"

"Oh no. Yes. I'm sorry, yes I'm done. No coffee or dessert, though, thank you."

"Alright, I'll just have someone bring you your check then. Have a nice afternoon!"

"Thanks. You too."

She's still fairly beaming with happiness from her announcement. Sure. 'A nice afternoon.' Maybe for her, but not for me. Not if what I suspect is true.

He's taken. Has been for a while apparently.

I never had a chance.

o o - - o o

"I see your social life is as exciting as mine?"

I look up the denim clad legs that appear beside me to find Duo with a grin on his face.

"Apparently," I nod.

He smiles in return and then cocks his head to the side. "Are you stalking me or something?"

"No." I answer seriously. Though if I were completely honest, I'd have to admit he is partly responsible for my being here.

"You sure now? That's two days in a row you've run into me."

"Positive."

"So yesterday you just happened to be in the vicinity of the University 'cause you had to go to…?"

"The FedEx shop."

"Ah," he nods sagely, "to ship that all important midnight package?"

I smirk at him. "Yes." It was hardly midnight.

"And tonight here you are. In my bookstore. Sure you're not following me?"

I give him a blank look.

"It was a joke Heero." He pats me on the head like a little kid and leans against the low table opposite me. "You were supposed to say something like, 'I was here first'."

"I was." I knew it was a joke! Excuse me if my sense of humor is just a bit… dry?

"OK, see now, that… Oh never mind! Not real good with the witty repartee, are we?"

"Like the Hindenburg on its maiden voyage."

That elicits a hearty chuckle and he nods in approval. "See. That was a good comeback. There's hope for you yet, mister."

I lift an eyebrow in response and nothing else.

"Alright, alright. No more joking about jokes." He snickers at his own comment and then settles. "Hey, you drinking anything? They make really good coffee here. Have you tried it?"

"No."

"And would that be a no to the drinking or a no to the trying?"

Apparently /he/ is a master of the witty repartee. "Neither" I answer motioning at the area surrounding me to indicate that I have nothing to drink.

A slight frown seizes his features and he hesitates. "Am I bothering you? 'Cause you can just tell me to go away. I won't be offended or anything. This place isn't so small I can't find something else to occupy my time."

"No!" I shake my head at how inane I can be around other people. Especially him. "Sorry, I'm just… not much of a talker."

"OK, if you're sure?"

I nod and it seems to appease him.

"Mind if I sit?" He motions to the floor with his head and I nod acceptance.

"You know, you seemed to be doing just fine in the talking department yesterday. And this afternoon, too. Looked like you were having a good time, even."

I smile in remembrance, "I did." I had a great time. More so yesterday, when he spent the morning in my temporary home for the second week in a row, than at the happy hour today. But definitely on both occasions. "But that was… different."

He settles next to me on the floor and checks out the cover of the book I was reading. "Yeah, how's that?" His tone and actions are nonchalant, but something in his eyes when he looks up at me belies that.

I struggle with how to word my answer while he peruses the other titles I've pulled off the shelves. How do I tell him that this time I have no pretense under which to keep him around. Despite knowing of his engagement, I find myself wanting to prolong the time I spend with him. I'd used the excuse of our need to share information about the resort on Wednesday morning, and this afternoon I'd managed to convince him he was the only person I knew personally at the event. Both had granted me a lengthy stay in his invigorating presence.

"That was business." I manage abruptly. It's the closest thing to the truth.

"Business, huh?" He scrunches his face up at that. "Jeez, you're not doing much for my ego here, buddy."

"Your ego?" I'm confused.

"Yeah, I was kinda hoping that part of the reason was that you liked hanging out with me. But if it was just 'business'…" He makes air quotes with his fingers and puts an exaggerated emphasis on the last word.

"I'm sorry. I didn't… mean it like that. I… I do enjoy your company."

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow to that and purses his lips.

"I'm just not good with social situations. It's easier for me if I approach those scenarios with… a business mindset. This is my work, so my ability to communicate with people affects my success with regards to the project. If I don't cultivate-"

He bumps my shoulder with his and a low chuckle stops me in mid-sentence. "Heero, relax. We're not at a Carnegie class and there's no test tomorrow." He gives me another push before leaning back against the bookshelves behind us. "You sure I can't get you a coffee? It makes the experience all the nicer." He waves a hand around to indicate the store in general.

I shake my head slightly. "I just ate."

"Alright, but if you change your mind just let me know. My treat."

"Will do." I nod succinctly and turn back to the book in my lap.

He's already picked up one of the other books I'd taken down and peruses it for a few minutes in silence, propping it against his upraised thighs. I turn the page of the book in front of me, not really reading it any more, just keeping up the appearance. I'd pretty much decided not to purchase this one before he arrived and had intended to move on to the next one. Now eager to extend our time together, I need to stall and take my time with these books. I again feel comfortable and somewhat relaxed in his presence, despite the outward signs to the contrary.

"Take it you're doing research for the project?" he asks casually, flipping through the book he's picked up.

"Sort of."

"Having any luck with that one? Find anything interesting?"

"Not really."

"This one's got some nice pictures and scaled drawings. You look at it yet?"

"Not yet."

He hums an answer at me then suddenly snaps the book shut, holding it out to me.

"You always keep your answers to three words or less?"

There's a slight grin on his face when I look up that indicates he finds something, most likely me, amusing. I shunt what would have actually been my answer and reply, taking the book from him. "Mostly." I hope it's obvious that my answer was purposely short.

He snickers and his grin grows wider, shaking his head at me. "You're quite a character, Heero."

The book that had been on my lap disappears and he looks at the title one more time. "This book is a piece of crap, you know." He announces this while twisting around to put it back where it came from. "I think the idiot that wrote it has never been to any of the places he talks about. You can tell by the way he describes the stuff that he's never actually seen them up close. It's like someone went out and took the pictures for him and he's just making educated commentary based on that. He's too clinical. There's another book here that…" He's looking over the shelves intently. "Where the hell'd it go?" He pulls my shoulder forward to look at the books behind me. "It's really great. I love the way the auth- ah, here it is."

He takes back the book he'd handed me and replaces it with the one he's just found, tapping the book now in my lap. "This book kicks ass. Both the authors are clearly well versed in their fields. One of them's an architectural historian and the other is an artist or something. They have some really amazing pictures and…"

He stops abruptly and stares back at me. "What?"

"Nothing." I shake my head dumbly and try to control the stupid smile that wants to take residence on my face.

I hadn't been able to take my eyes off of him. I find his excitement and liveliness enthralling, but the scrutiny must have been too much for him. I don't know how he manages it, but every time he's near me I feel lighthearted, almost carefree. It occurs to me that I could easily spend hours just watching and listening to him.

"You're staring at me like I'm a lunatic."

"Not at all. I'm just listening."

"Hey!" He laughs and points a finger at me. "That was like -" he ticks something off on his fingers "- six words!"

We laugh some more and he continues to tease me until one of the store's employees comes into our section. I think her soft greeting of 'Gentlemen' is intended more to make us quiet down than anything else. She lingers for a few minutes longer and I feel myself slipping back into my more reserved manner. When she finally leaves our section, he leans against me and snickers, hissing quietly.

"You think she just came in here to make us shut up?"

"Definitely."

"And are we gonna let her do that to us?" The question is delivered with a hint of righteous indignation. I almost feel bad for giving my answer.

"Probably."

His shoulders slump and he pouts at me. "Aw damn it, back to square one again."

"Excuse me?"

"We're back to three words or less, Yuy. That is not what I had in mind."

That comment surprises me, I didn't realize… "What did you have in mind?"

Before he can react, I hold up six fingers. Yes, I'd counted out my words as I formulated the longer answer. I really am capable of more than a few words at a time. Just not necessarily when I'm nervous. And he practically makes my hands sweat.

He snickers at my response and moves to get up, setting the books aside and thinking over what he's about to say. When he's decided he turns a bit to face me.

"You know, you're way too grumpy for someone our age. Don't be."

I frown. "Not grumpy. Serious." Why do people always say things like that to me? It's really not fair. I can't help it if I'm a little serious. I do have my reasons.

"OK maybe grumpy was a bad choice. Serious, then. Why don't we rewind a little? Try this from a different angle? You know, go for a lighter mood. Pretend I'm that roommate of yours or something."

"Duo, you're nothing like my roommate."

"Just work with me will ya'?."

He chuckles again, and I can only assume it's at my slightly puzzled look.

Finally he stands and walks a few feet away. He begins to straighten his shirt and pat down his pants. Once he's readjusted himself, his whole demeanor changes and he approaches me again.

"Hey Heero, what a surprise to see you here!" I think it comes out a little louder than he expected and we both look around nervously, expecting the young attendant to reappear. When she doesn't, he picks up where he left off, walking toward me and extending his hand. When I don't take it right away he extends it a bit more, mouthing 'shake it'. I nod dumbly and do as I'm told. "Isn't this a great little place?"

He looks at me expectantly, so I answer with a slight smile. "Yes."

A circular hand movement indicates that I should expand on that.

"It's very… nice. Quiet."

Seemingly satisfied, he picks up the conversation, plopping down on the floor next to me again. "Yeah, I love these little mom and pop shops. They're much more appealing than those huge warehouse type places, don't you think? What do you like most about it?"

"It's… quiet." He nods encouragingly. "Less… busy." More nodding. "More conducive to reading." I must have hit an acceptable word count because he picks up the conversation again.

"Yeah. Cozy, you know? I think that's a good word for it. So how'd you find out about this place? It's usually just us locals that come here."

This one is easy. "I asked Maxine where the nearest bookstores were. She gave me directions for how to find this and the Borders."

His eyes widen slightly and I can't help smiling in response. I think I've impressed him greatly with my verbosity.

"Not bad, not bad. That was good. Did she mention I told her about this place?"

I nod once and he hums a response at me again.

"So, you really like it here?"

I shrug. "I guess. It is nicer than going to Borders."

"Yeah, I think so too. I absolutely love this place." He smiles wistfully, looking around a bit. He shrugs and pulls his knees up to his chest, putting his arms around his bent legs. "I've been coming here forever, since I was way little. It's like my second home."

An image pops into my head. I can almost imagine him as a boy, darting between the bookstands, climbing the ladders to reach something on a shelf out of his reach. I can vividly picture those amazing eyes, wide with wonder. I'm suddenly taken with the desire to know more about him; there's something about his expression that just begs askance.

"Have you always lived here?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, no." He shakes his head a little. "Actually I was born in Ohio. Lived there 'til I was like… five or six." He leans back, fidgeting with the book in his lap, and I fail to recognize it for the evasion that it is.

Mentally, I'm still watching a child-Duo running about, when words tumble out of me without thought. "That's a long way to come. What possessed your family move so far?"

"They um… they didn't, just me." He scratches his head and makes a strange face. "I came to live with my uncle."

"Oh." That answer kills my visions of a happy little cherub with wild, straw-brown hair running between the shelves. Damn, what the hell's that supposed to mean anyway? Did they send him away? Guess I shouldn't have asked. "Sorry."

It's his turn to shrug and he sets the book aside; his look becomes more serious than I've ever seen it before. "My parents died in a car accident when I was four. I lived in a group home for almost two years before they were able to track my uncle down. When he finally came for me, he brought me here. Lived here ever since."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to"

"No need to apologize, Heero. It's OK, really; I'm fine. I don't mind talking about it. It was a long time ago." He shrugs again and fiddles with the hem of his jeans.

I feel like a heel for bringing it up. Thinking of my parents is difficult for me too sometimes, even after so long. His apparent discomfort, despite his assertion to the contrary, moves me to reassure him the only way I can.

"I understand. I… Me too."

He looks up at me, puzzled.

"I lost my parents when I was six. Well, almost six; it was right before my birthday."

"No way?"

I nod. "Helicopter accident in the Andes, near the border between Ecuador and Peru. I ended up with my uncle too."

He turns and leans back against the shelves again. Closing his eyes for a moment. I set my book down in my lap and stare straight ahead, leaning back next to him. For a few minutes, we're both lost in our thoughts.

"You know, you're the first person I've met, since I was at the home, who was my age and lost both their parents. Kinda weird, don't you think? Both of us orphans, and we both lived with our uncles." He's shaking his head when a thought occurs to him. "How old are you, Heero? I don't think anyone's actually said."

"I'll be twenty-five in a few months. You're, what, twenty-two?"

I see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye. "Twenty-three. Just turned."

Without really thinking about it, my mind computes the difference and it's a little disconcerting.

"Duo, you said you were four? Had you turned four?"

His head lolls to the side and he looks at me, thinking it through only for a moment. "Yeah. A couple of months before. Why?"

"I think… our parents, yours and mine, I think…" I can see it in his eyes. He's doing the math and in that moment he realizes it.

"Nineteen years ago?"

I nod. "Memorial Day weekend."

His eyes widen. "Beginning of June." It's practically a whisper. "How weird!" He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it back out slowly. "Damn, Heero, I think we were meant to be friends. I think there's some cosmic force at work here that meant for us to meet." He's quiet for a moment and then chuckles. "Your uncle didn't happen to be your mom's stepbrother by any chance, did he?"

"No. Blood brother. A bit older than her, but definitely related."

He seems relieved and I don't quite understand why. For a few minutes, we silently digest that information.

I'm not sure that I believe in this cosmic force he claims brought us together, but I do feel a kind of bond with him. Maybe some part of me recognized that similar something in him and that's what had made me gravitate toward him.

He rolls his head to the side to look at me again and there's a quiet sadness in his gaze. "Do you remember them?"

I turn to him, nodding. "Pretty much, but it's a little blurry sometimes. You?" He shakes his head a little. "You were a few years younger than me," I offer. "They say kids don't really form hard memories of their own until they're about three or four. That's probably why."

"Yeah I guess." He shrugs, looking down and away. "Would've been nice though."

"Can you… would you tell me about them? What you do remember."

He nods and the sadness recedes just a bit.

So he tells me abut his parents, Alex and Margaret, who'd been sweethearts since high school, marrying just two years after graduating from college. He remembers them mostly from pictures and the stories he's been told about them. He's sure, though, that some memories of his mother are his own. His father had been an engineer; his mother a substitute teacher. They had been young and beautiful. They had been responsible and concerned parents. They had been decent, church going people. They had loved music and dancing. They had been trying for a second child.

He tells me the story of how he got his name. How, trying to follow family traditions, his parents had toyed with various combinations of their own fathers' names. The story he's been told is that they'd tacked a paper to the refrigerator and written the three men's names in every conceivable combination. They struggled with the decision until Alex had finally had a brilliant idea while sleepily peering at the names in the middle the night. Rather than saddle their son with some stodgy old family name or risk offending anyone, he had proposed that they use each man's first initial as a way to honor them all. They agreed to use Demetrius after Alex's dad, Ulric after Margaret's late father and Oswald for the step father who had loved Margaret as his own. And so it was that Duo had come into being.

I took my turn and told him of my own parents, Asato and Grace. How they had met at the University while he was working on his Master's thesis and she was still an undergraduate. How my father had been a freelance journalist and my mother an amateur photographer. I shared with him that they had spent many years traveling and doing humanitarian work before deciding to settle down and have a child. How they had only ever intended to have one. And then, even after having me, how every year they'd take off for two months, before the summer break, to do what my uncle had always termed 'pathetic peace corping'. I explained that it had taken me years to understand my uncle's seeming anger toward their work, and how I'd realized that while his anger had been over their untimely deaths, he'd found it easier to blame their humanitarian activism.

Somehow, the conversation comes around to the book store again and I ask what draws him to it. He confesses to me that starting in middle school, he began coming here regularly to escape from reality. He proclaims himself to have been a veritable book nerd, lacking only the pocket protector. It is something that I highly doubt, but I humor him and ask what topics spiked his interest.

It turns out he has a rather eclectic taste in books, ranging from fantasy to sci-fi, thrillers, mysteries and mythology – none of which really surprise me. What does surprise me, though, are his other interests. He loves the Romantics, poetry, historical fiction and nonfiction, art, photography and architecture. When I tell him that my own interests run more toward specific authors rather than genres - Christie, Doyle, Renault, Herbert, Card, Dick and Crighton to name a few - he laughs and calls me a fiction snob. When I find myself justifying my love of adventure-filled fiction, it causes him to sober quickly. He manages to draw from me a very short version of what life was like with my uncle.

It is a tale of quiet, mostly solitary days spent laboring to improve both my mental and physical prowess. My uncle, who'd suffered a near crippling accident in his youth, believed that all able bodied young men should develop themselves to the full extent possible. To him this meant long hours spent exercising both mind and body. Though not entirely unkind, the man had been relentless in his expectations. Checking books out of the library had been my only true means of escape. I admit to Duo that it wasn't until late in my Junior year of high school that I'd actually been allowed to cultivate friendships and step out of my uncle's constant control. By then my personality had been chiseled in stone, and despite joining the soccer team, it wasn't until I'd met up with Trowa in college that I'd actually developed any lasting friendships.

I imagine he'd been saved from a fate similar to mine because his mother's older blood-brother lived in Europe somewhere, working for some sort of brain-trust, and hadn't been interested in taking responsibility for his estranged sister's young son. Duo's life with his step-uncle could not have been any more different than mine. Despite his self-proclaimed nerdiness, he'd been popular and active in school. He learned how to sail, dive and snorkel from his uncle. The summer before eighth grade was spent on a boat in the Caribbean. For almost two years, starting his junior year in high school, he had been part of a local modern-dance troupe. He'd held many part-time jobs from an early age – even working two jobs for short period of time – before settling in to work for the resort year round.

I learn that his uncle's work had often taken him away on extended leaves and as Duo grew older he became more and more self sufficient. He joked that he'd often felt like the adult in their relationship. While he had stayed home making sure things ran smoothly, his uncle had run off to play. He claims he was never truly lonely though. The two best friends he'd made when he first arrived in this city had always been nearby and he had repeatedly been welcomed into their homes when he'd been too young to stay on his own.

I imagine we could spend hours telling each other about our pasts, bonding in a way that has never been available to us. Neither of us has ever met anyone our own age who has shared our particular grief. It is liberating, in a sad sort of way, to talk of our pains and losses and have them truly understood. But it is not meant to be.

Too soon for my taste, the management announces that the store is closing and we have no choice but to leave.

Once outside I offer him a ride. He'd come by bicycle and it makes no sense for him to ride back on his own, in the dark, when we're both heading to the same place. We manage to get the bike settled in the back of the truck without much effort and ride back in near silence, listening only to the sound of the wind through the open windows and the road beneath the tires.

When we disembark from the ferry, we say our goodbyes. And he thanks me.

I think he almost says he'd had a good time, but stops in mid sentence. Instead he says it was nice talking to me and he thanks me again before riding off.

I return the gratitude. I understand.

TBC


	5. Tea

Splendor Restored

Chapter 5

Author: BadMomma

Warnings: AU, limey

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Archived: GWA, Under the Bridge

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered. To Klingonpoo. Cause if it ain't 1x2 she won't read it.

Notes: Thanks to Link for giving this a read through and some rather amusing feedback. Duo's POV. This one's real short.

The "/" denote emphasis on a word.

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

05 Tea

Watching ice melt. You've heard that expression, right, 'As exciting as watching ice melt'? It means whatever you're doing is as mind-numbingly boring as all get out. And if you'd asked me yesterday, I would have wholeheartedly agreed. But not anymore. Not after today. Because today I watched an ice sculpture melt right before my eyes. And I think it was the most wonderful thing I've ever laid eyes on.

I'd met up with The Girls today, as is my habit whenever I can, to enjoy a little afternoon tea. OK, so I don't really like tea. Nor do I enjoy drinking anything that hot, exposed to the elements and in the middle of a scorching afternoon. But hey, The Girls like to do their Tuesday Afternoon Tea. According to them it's a ritual left over from bygone days and I've got a standing invitation to join them because, for some reason, they absolutely love me.

Alright, so maybe I know why they love me and it has a little something to do with the fact that I treat them special. I fawn over them. I kiss their hands and cheeks when I greet them. I hold doors for them. I always have time to stop and talk or help them out with whatever needs doing around their homes. I'm like the nice grandson that's always around. I really don't mind doing it and it makes them happy to know that some still cares and thinks about them on a daily basis. In my opinion, they deserve it.

So yeah, standing invitation to join them for their tea, out on the courtyard, every Tuesday at two o'clock. And unless I'm occupied with some work event or on my deathbed, I don't miss it. I usually get there a little past the hour, but there's always an extra cup waiting for me. They'll pour me tea, overload it with milk and honey, and it'll sit there until it's cooled down before I'll even consider drinking any of it. But then, like the good grandson-type that I am, I'll sip at it occasionally while listening to them tell each other stories of their week. Talk usually revolves around letters or calls from their families, who's coming to visit and when, which of their adult children are doing a good job of raising the kids and which aren't. Sometimes they'll ask my opinion about whether the things they've heard about are normal 'nowadays' or not. That's led to some interesting conversations, let me tell you. How do you explain to a group of decent, upstanding, matronly old ladies that today's fashions are just never going to make any sense to them?

Tea time also serves the purpose of planning their monthly outings. Earlier this month, I'd taken them out to a special matinee showing at the local playhouse. Discussion on this particular Tuesday was hot and heavy over whether a visit to the botanical gardens was a good idea at this time of year. Well, the hot and heavy discussion lasted until a certain cool customer showed up. And then they'd turned into a gaggle of cackling and cooing geese.

It never ceases to amaze me how my 'Old Girls' turn into silly 'Old Broads' at the sight a pretty new face. Their continuing reaction to Mr. Z always threatens to send me into hysterics. And yeah, I'd asked Heero to drop by if he had the time. They'd been inquiring about him almost obsessively. Seems the stud-dar had gone into overdrive with the arrival of our illustrious new tenant and I'd had to suffer through several rounds of 'twenty questions' since that Monday morning they'd caught sight of him in the lobby. It's gotten so I spent a good portion of my time these days talking to them about him. Not that I'm jealous or anything, I'm just saying…

And yes, I do recognize the irony of it all. I'm all hot under the collar about cool-as-a-cuke stud-muffin, and all The Girls want to know is if he's single or seeing someone, where he hails from, what his family's like, what he does for a living, and do I think he likes brainy brunettes with, or without, glasses because insert granddaughter's name here might be coming for a short vacation this summer.

So I'd invited him, and like the good little trooper he is, he'd accepted. Of course, he'd subjected me to his own round of 'twenty questions'. Everything ranging from who they were, to how long they'd been here, to do they live here year round, and what do they talk about at Tea, and would they likely be willing to share information or photographs of what the resort was like before I got here, and… Well, I'm sure you can guess at how the rest of it went.

I can't say that I was surprised when he did show up, but it was pleasant none the less. He called out a greeting as soon as he breached the edge of the courtyard, which I returned with a nod and a wave as I rose to meet him. He stopped and we shook hands just a few feet from the table, but I noticed him coolly assessing the situation from where we stood. I took the moment of near privacy to ask him if he was really ready for this – with the appropriate emphasis on the word 'really' - and that near icy veneer of control he always has in place seemed to crack just a little. His eyes cut back to me immediately, widening momentarily. He ducked his head and leaned into to me slightly, control not quite back, responding with a slightly nervous 'Do I need to be?'

My snickered answer of 'maybe' made his face go from just slightly nervous to almost horrified, but it resettled quickly as he straightened himself up again – suddenly back in control. I relented, patting him on the back and then, assuring him he'd be fine, led him like a lamb to the slaughter.

When we turned back to the table, it was to find that in the scant seconds it had taken for us to greet each other, The Girls had performed a near miracle. They had – rather stealthily, I must say – rearranged themselves and the seating so that the only available spot for Heero was directly across the table from me, between Mildred and Claudine. I'd very carefully carved a nice little space for us to sit together in order to buffer him from their enthusiasm, should it become necessary. The saccharine-sweet smiles I found directed at us as we crossed the courtyard let me know that they were not only on to my plans, but that they were having none of it. I'd been a fool to think I could get away with it unnoticed. After making the perfunctory introductions, I deposited Heero in his seat with a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and returned to mine.

For the next few minutes they fussed over him; asking how he liked his tea (not like they'd ever damn well asked me), offering him some sweet biscuits and cakes, cooing about how nice it was of him to join them, and demurring that they hoped he didn't find them boring or old fashioned. It was truly nauseating. I swear, I don't think I'd ever seen them behave this way; not even when they'd first met the boss. It wasn't until he shot me the second 'Help me, please' look that I could muster the wits to put an end to it.

"Girls, please, stop making such a fuss. You're embarrassing him."

He immediately shot me a grateful look, even as he politely declined a plate of fruit tarts being thrust at him from the left.

It was Mildred, ever the opinionated one, that first seemed to realize just how silly they were acting. "You're right Duo, we should give him a chance to take a breath. Right girls?" She gave everyone a measured look and it was as if someone had flipped a switch. All motion and talk stopped; they all looked around at each other and suddenly broke out in chuckles.

Claudine, the group's politician, was the first to recover. "Very sorry, Mr. Yuy; I guess we got a little carried away." It made Heero tense up when she patted his hand, which held his portfolio in front of him like a shield. I doubt she or anyone else noticed his reaction, it was very subtle. But I'd sort of developed the habit of watching him closely – any and every opportunity I got – so I recognized the slight change in his posture.

He cleared his throat and smoothly answered, "It's alright, Mrs. …?"

"Claudine is just fine, dear. May we call you Heero?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Please." He bowed his head to her slightly.

She smiled back at him. "How about I introduce us again? This is Corrine," she motioned to her left and began working her way around the table, "and Anita." She gave me a quick look before skipping over me. "And those are Sadie, Annabelle and Mildred." She pointed to each of them as she named them.

Heero made eye contact with everyone as they were reintroduced. Then, with another bow of the head, he greeted them all again. "Ladies."

I was watching the exchange so closely that it caught me completely off guard when Anita moved to push some loose hair behind my ear. "And you know our Duo, of course." The gleam I saw when her eyes met mine worried me.

Heero looked from her to me, holding my gaze for a moment before making that strange face he does where one corner of his mouth pulls back – not up or down, just back – and he cocks his head slightly, before smoothly answering "Of course."

I'm still not quite sure what that look is supposed to mean, but I hope to have it figured out soon.

Feigning nonchalance, I cocked my head at him and answered with a grin. "Of course." Crossing my arms and legs and leaning back in my chair, I wondered how long it would take before they started grilling him. "So girls, now that we've all been introduced, what shall we talk about?"

Sadie shushed me with a wave of her hand. "Give him a minute to get settled, dear. He hasn't even put his notebook down yet." She quickly turned to Heero, leaning forward slightly, "We can make some space for it here on the table, if you'd like?"

Seeming to suddenly realize he was still clutching it to his chest, he started, looking around himself a bit. "No, that's alright. I'll just put it down here." I think he meant to set it underneath his chair, but didn't get very far.

"Oh my, no! It looks very expensive. You wouldn't want to get it dirty and scratched, dear. We can make room for it."

Instantly, everyone's hands went to work at making space for it on the table while Heero tried again to protest, insisting that it wasn't expensive and would be fine if he put it on the floor. As I'd suspected, he lost that battle, finally having it plucked from his hands by Mildred while he fended off Claudine's offer to hold it. Mildred's move startled him and he tensed slightly again, belatedly giving her a strained smile.

Despite feeling infinitely sorry for him, it took a lot of effort not to bust out laughing. Heero was clearly tense and The Girls weren't helping any. It was actually kind of nice to see the guy could have his feathers ruffled. He always seems to be so in control, collected, like nothing ever gets to him. One cool customer.

I was just opening my mouth to start the conversation when I was accosted, simultaneously, from both sides. Anita patted my arm in a move that clearly told me to keep my mouth shut and Sadie leaned over, offering to top off my tea, while giving me a look that echoed the sentiment. Surprised by their behavior, I couldn't help but look back and forth between them before giving up. I felt like we'd been invaded by pod people; I swear they'd never behaved this batty before. And what was with the 'Keep Duo Out of the Conversation' routine they had going?

Heero, it seems, had caught the exchange too and was staring back at me when I finally looked his way. He had a vaguely horrified look just barely visible in his eyes. All I could offer him was a slight shrug, hoping he'd realize that I had no more clue as to what was happening than he did. I'm sure he'd been counting on me to be his go between for the proceedings, and it was bad enough that they'd felt the need to separate us, but if I wasn't going to be allowed to speak either it was going to be one hell of an interesting afternoon.

After a few more random comments about tea and cakes and the value of portfolios, things seemed to be settling down. Finally, one of The Girls threw out something that he could handle and he jumped on it with zeal: Annabelle asked what had brought him to the resort. He was still sitting very properly, a little tense and very formal, but at least he was talking about something that interested him. That always seemed to relax him. It was the first sign that his icy façade of control was finally beginning to melt. Things went pretty smoothly for a while after that and eventually he stopped tensing up every time one of The Girls jumped into the conversation or made a move in his direction. For my part, I just sat back and soaked it all in, thrilled to have an excuse to overtly watch him.

Little by little, the occasional looks he shot in my direction started moving away from the initial plea for help. His eyes would meet mine as if asking for my approval, checking to see if he was doing OK. I made sure to always give him the slightest nod of encouragement. As The Girls got more seriously into the conversation, I began to look around. Watching the whole of the conversation, though frequently returning my gaze to Heero, I often caught him looking back at me when I'd been looking away and realized the looks had turned into an attempt to include me in the conversation. Valiant as the attempts were, though, they were repeatedly unsuccessful. My pod-grandmothers continued to shush or pat me and cut me off before I could get two words in edgewise. At one point, Anita's staying hand glued itself to my bicep for so long I thought I might have to have it surgically removed. After enduring the gentle restraint for nearly ten minutes, I dislodged it by leaning forward under the pretense of reaching for a plate of sweets from across the table.

By then Heero's posture had shifted from that tense, upright position with both feet firmly on the floor to something much more relaxed. He'd leaned against the back of his chair at some point and even managed to extend his legs under the table with his ankles crossed. When he saw me reaching across the table he sat up, uncrossing his ankles and leaning forward, his hand shooting out to offer me whatever I was seeking.

When our eyes met some spark of knowledge, or truth, passed between us.

In the second it took for me to decide what I wanted and for him to hand it to me, it dawned on me that the real Heero, the one he usually keeps locked up under the cool, restrained exterior, had finally made an appearance. It was the Heero I had gotten only glimpses of that afternoon at the Ale House, the one who had quietly shared a little of his history with me that night at the bookstore, the one I usually only got to see on Wednesday mornings. He was a youthful, engaging and kind man who had so much more to offer than his usually stern exterior would lead you to believe.

In that moment, a realization struck me with crystallized clarity. I'd found a lasting friendship in him. If nothing more ever developed between us, I knew I could bring myself to live with it. And for that, I offered him a quiet, but heartfelt, thanks. The smile he returned as he began leaning back was beatific, giving me just the slightest nod of acceptance.

Our moment was over and the void of sound and activity suddenly made itself known. We both huffed out a nervous laugh as he pushed his chair back from the table. A few of The Girls immediately reached for their tea cups or looked away to cover the fact that they'd been staring. He dropped his elbows to his knees, clasping his hands and hanging his head slightly, trying to cover an embarrassed smile, I think.

"Well," he huffed, standing gracefully and tucking his portfolio up under his arm, before looking around the table. "Thank you, everyone, for inviting me. I had a great time, but I do need to get back to work." He gave them an abbreviated yet formal bow, a smile hovering at the corner of his mouth, "Ladies".

His announcement caused a flurry of activity; china and silverware were set down, napkins folded and offers of an open invitation were made. I rose to make my way around the table and he turned to meet me, setting his portfolio back down.

Thinking back on it, I recognize my actions as an urgent desire in that moment to just… touch him. I guess I was looking for a reassurance that what I thought had passed between us was real. I met his outstretched hand firmly, clasping it between both of mine. "Thanks again for coming, man."

He nodded and our eyes locked. "No," he replied intensely, "thank /you/."

His hand rose to my shoulder and squeezed, drawing us minutely closer. I answered in kind and nodded back at him, our hands still moving between us.

"You're welcome to join us any time," I smiled and shot a look back at The Girls; "They don't extend invitations lightly."

His right shoulder pulled back in the act of turning toward the table, answering their expectant gazes with a nod and a quiet 'thank you'. The move severed most of our contact but his hand lingered on my shoulder, fingers splayed at my back.

When he turned back, he quirked that boyish smile at me. Sliding his hand to my bicep, he gave me one last squeeze.

"I've really got to go." He quickly checked his watch and smirked. "Appointment in five."

We both nodded as he released me to retrieve his portfolio.

"I'll see you later?" His eyebrows rose, changing it from a question to a statement, while still the indicating the tiniest bit of hope.

"Definitely," I reassured him, stepping back and giving him room to maneuver.

Giving The Girls another bow, he murmured one last goodbye.

I dropped into his vacant seat with a satisfied grin as he walked away to a chorus of well wishes and happy returns.

TBC


	6. Discovery

Splendor Restored 6/13+E

Author: BadMomma

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations

Warnings: AU (my first), limey

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Archived: GWA, Under the Bridge

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.

Notes: See Chapter 1.

Warnings 2: (this chapter only) Very mild, joking reference to incest and drug addiction; neither of which, I realize, are humorous in and of themselves. The comments are made in jest, as often happens in everyday conversation, and are not meant to offend.

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

**06Discovery**

I'm about to give up and just leave the CD by the door when it swings open rather violently. Duo squints out at me from inside the dark apartment and it takes him a moment to figure out who I am.

"Heero?" He reaches out, grabbing my shirt sleeve, and hauls me inside before slamming the door shut. Heaving a sigh of relief and closing his eyes, he leans against the door.

It makes me smile. He does. I never quite know what to expect from him so it keeps me on my toes, but it is not in any way stressful. It's enjoyable, amusing. This easy friendship we've fallen into amazes me, too. Sometimes it feels like I've known him all my life.

He hasn't moved or opened his eyes yet. Maybe this was not the best time to visit. I lightly poke him in the shoulder and he flops loosely, groaning in response.

"You look tired, Duo. Go back to bed. I just came by to drop off that CD I promised you. Give me a call later, when you're awake, and I'll tell you what all I put on it. I'll just leave it here somewhere for you."

I step away from the door as I look for a good place to put the CD, taking in all the little details about his home. I've never actually been in his apartment and if I was pressed to pick one word to describe it, it'd have to be 'quaint'. Not quaint in a country kitchen sense, because the place has a very masculine feel, but quaint in a warm, clean, lived in, comfortable-looking sense. The walls are painted a medium-dark khaki color, trims all done in a whitish color, though it's hard to tell exactly with the current lack of lighting. The furniture is an odd, but not clashing, mix of medium to dark woods, all clean lines and angles. To the left is the living room area. There's a modern, comfortable looking sofa with several throw pillows scattered across it, an entertainment system and a few small tables arranged loosely. To the right, there's a desk in the corner, where his computer is situated, and next to that is a high breakfast bar, similar to the one in my own temporary apartment, beyond which is the kitchen.

Having noticed a pile consisting of mail, keys and cell phone lying on the bar, I head there. It's probably the best place to leave the CD; he's bound to find it there later. As I reach it, I hear him push off from the door and head my way.

"Stay. Sit. Coffee." He shuffles past me, neatly avoiding my outstretched arm which was intended to stop him. He pushes lightly at my hand, waving at one of the high stools. "Up now. Won't sleep again. Stay." With his eyes barely open, he artfully manages to skirt the edge of the bar. I'm amazed he hasn't run into anything.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay." He waves distractedly over his shoulder, making a bee-line for the fridge and pulling out a bag of coffee. "Look 'round. Get com'fy. Jus' gonna se'this t'brew and go'th bathroom." He punches on the light over the stove, recoiling slightly, but moves unerringly to the coffee machine on the counter.

I watch him quietly. His eyes are like slits, as if it would take too much effort to open them completely, and he's moving like a movie zombie – dragging his feet in an odd shuffle. I'd feel more comfortable if he was more awake and leading me in conversation, but I guess it can't be helped. I had pretty much guessed he was not a morning person, but I don't think I've ever seen him this close to having gotten out of bed. Looking around the apartment again in an attempt to distract myself, something catches my eye.

On the wall beside his desk there's a collage of sorts. There are photographs mounted on what looks to be Mylar from this distance. Peeking out from behind the pictures there appear to be some dark, swirling lines. I can't quite tell if they form a pattern because of all the pictures. Nor can I clearly see any of the pictures.

"Make y'self at home. Snoop at will. Gonna -" he waves his hand around his head "face… teeth. Coffee soon. Lights if you wan'em." He waves at the ceiling, disappearing from sight around the corner into what must be the area of his bedroom and bathroom.

As soon as he's gone I get up and go over to the collection of pictures. There are somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred photos. He clearly stands out in a few of them but with barely any light it's hard to see. Turning on the desk lamp, I look the pictures over again quickly, trying to spot all the ones he's in. It is then that I realize he's in almost all of them. The more I look, the more I concentrate, the more I notice that for the most part the farther from the center you get, the older he is.

Most are of small groups of friends, him with one or two other people. I see his uncle with him in quite a few. There are also several where it's just him and two other boys – probably the best friends he told me about at the bookstore. There are a few where I recognize Hilde among the subjects. There are even some that are of groups of children – some obviously class or team pictures, but some not – and it takes only a slight effort on my part to single him out.

A sudden tightness in my chest makes me stop and think. Amidst the almost overwhelming excitement that comes with the realization that this is an archive of his life, is the pain of realizing that I could never have – or do – something like this. Sure there are pictures of me from when I was a baby, a toddler, even as a young boy from before my parents died. And I have scores of those annual, obligatory, posed school pictures; but there are none like the majority of what's on display in front of me. These are pictures of a person, a real human being, with friends and memories and anecdotes. Each of these pictures likely has a story to go with it, each taken during or after a memorable event. Each one would likely bring a smile or a laugh from Duo to accompany the story.

And what do I have to compare to it? Nothing. Soulless stills of me in a school uniform, frowning at a camera. I had no friends to speak of prior to attending college. I joined no teams or clubs until my senior year of high school. I had no hobbies, no 'gang' to hang out or go to parties with. Truthfully, if it wasn't for Trowa, and later Quatre and Wufei, I probably wouldn't have much of an adult life either.

I look at these pictures, these moments, these stories, and wonder what I have to offer to the person whose vibrant life is so obviously on display.

I'm still looking the pictures over, making guesses at what they depict, when the level of light in the room increases. His clear voice calls me back from my imaginings.

"In case you're wondering, no, I do not suffer from a monstrous ego." I hear him chuckle quietly to himself even as he pulls a pair of mugs down from a cabinet. "It started as a project for my English class senior year and everybody liked it so much I decided to keep adding to it."

When I finally turn to look, he's at the breakfast bar with a t-shirt flung over his left shoulder setting out cream and sugar. "Coffee's almost done." He smiles up at me as he moves to slip the shirt on.

More's the pity, he is one hell of an attractive man, but I guess it is common courtesy to be fully clothed when in company after all. I grunt an accepting response as he begins to turn back to the coffee machine and catch a glimpse of his back.

"Jesus Duo, what happened to your back?" He's still standing there, half naked – with only one arm in the sleeve of the shirt – and all I can see is a horrible mess of scraping and bruising beginning just below his right shoulder-blade and continuing down past the waistband of his shorts.

He turns his head to look over his shoulder, as if he doesn't already know what's there. "Aw man! I didn't tell you? I fell off my bike."

"You /fell/ off your bike?" I approach the counter, keeping it between us. If I get too close, I'll want to touch, to soothe, to comfort. No. Staying on this side of the counter would be best.

"…believe that? The motherfucker just drove away like he didn't even know he'd clipped me. I'm lucky I didn't crack my head open on the pavement!" He finally shrugs the shirt on fully, stretching and rotating his shoulders with a loud hiss.

All I can do is lean on the counter and stare at his back in shock.

He turns to me with the coffee pot in hand and grins. "Don't worry. I've had worse." He pours out a cup for me, adding just a touch of cream and sugar, and hands it over before pouring himself one. "Just been a while since I've taken a spill like that. I think I really screwed up the front wheel, too. Probably have to replace it."

My eyes are still staring blindly at where his back was. The image burned on my retinas. Before I know it, he's rounded the bar heading for the desk.

"So. You like it?"

I turn at the comment and he's hesitantly smiling back at me.

"Uh, yeah. It's cool." I pick up my mug and head over. "Must have taken a long time to put it all together."

"Oh it's been years in the making." His voice sounds falsely serious and I hazard a glance at him. He's smiling slightly, eyes racing over all the pictures, much like I'd been doing just moments ago. "That there is my life in a nutshell. Sort'a."

"So if I study this closely enough, I'll know the real Duo Maxwell?"

He nods once, shooting me a sideways grin, but quickly belies the statement by the slight arch of an eyebrow.

"Really? No secrets hiding elsewhere?"

His grin widens and he turns just his eyes to me. "Everybody's got secrets, Heero, the question is: Can you discover them even when they're in plain sight?"

We both look back at the collage, but now I wonder what might be on display that I may not immediately see the full meaning of. It's a challenge of sorts; he's laid down the proverbial gauntlet. I like challenges. And I think he sees the truth of it on my face.

I arch my own eyebrow at him. "So there /are/ mysteries to be uncovered here."

"The Good Book says 'Seek and ye shall find'. Give it your best shot, Yuy."

So I do. I start with the obvious, pointing to pictures of what must be his parents and grandparents, his two best friends. As I watch him, making the occasional encouraging sound to keep him talking, he does exactly what I had hoped for earlier. He begins sharing with me the stories that go with the pictures. He introduces me to his two best friends, Horatio and Antonio, pointing them out in many of the pictures I'd already noticed them in.

I point to what turns out to be a picture from that summer spent on the boat with his uncle; the soccer team from his middle school days; several pictures from Halloweens over the years; one from a performance by the dance troupe.

He tries to get me to talk about my own experiences, suggesting that it's hardly fair that he should be sharing when I'm not. When I laughingly brush him off by explaining that my uncle was a bore and I did nothing but read, study and exercise throughout most my school breaks, he huffs a disbelieving breath opining that I am 'one sad little man'. I don't think he realizes just how true that statement is.

Hoping to firmly get us off the subject of me, I point to one of the group pictures I'd noticed earlier where he looks very young. He tells me that it's from his time at the orphanage/group home. The picture taken during a field day about six months before he left. He lingers on that one for a moment, huffing out a half laugh and saying something I don't quite hear.

"What did you say?"

"Solo." He points to one of two older boys in the picture. "He left a little after this picture was taken. They transferred the older kids out of this place when they turned twelve. I…" He huffs out another half laugh, "I thought he was so cool. Must've driven him crazy the way I was always trying to follow him around, but he never said anything. Always treated me like I thought a big brother should." He laughs, takes a sip of his coffee and turns a sheepish grin at me. "Oh, to be young and stupid!"

"Why do you say that?"

"See the t-shirts? They all say Solo's Scavengers – he was our team Captain that year. I found out later his name was actually Solomon. He was something else, let me tell you. And we were so proud of ourselves that day; we were the only team that actually had a name. Everyone else was 'the blue team' or 'the red team', but we were announced as Solo's Scavengers for every event."

"That doesn't sound stupid; sounds like you did have something to be proud of. It also sounds like he was a nice guy, especially to make such an effort to be nice to the younger kids."

"Yeah but that's just it. He really wasn't that nice a guy." He sits on the edge of the desk, sipping his coffee and watching me watch him.

I am reminded, with something of a start, the odd but amusing habit he has of sticking his tongue out slightly when taking a drink from those covered paper cups all hot drinks are sold in, almost caressing the little hole in the plastic lid. I'd noticed it on our last trip to the bookstore and it's just struck me that he does it even when there's no lid. I don't think I quite control the slight shock as my memory provides brief images of all the other times I've seen him do it.

He catches my reaction, but apparently misreads it, assuming that I'm reacting to his comment about Solo. He waves a hand to forestall any judgment on my part and further explains his previous statement. "He was never mean to me or anything like that, but he wasn't exactly a 'good kid', if you know what I mean."

If I'm lucky, this may turn out to be one of Duo Maxwell's secrets. I pull the chair from under the desk and sit in it. It seems there's a little bit more story to this one picture and at this point I'll welcome any distraction that keeps my thoughts away from that wet, pink muscle.

"I'm not sure I follow," I prompt.

"Well." He shrugs, looking away. "The kids there weren't all orphans. I mean, I was and there were a few others. But some of them – like Solo – had been … removed from their homes. There was one kid who, I heard, had been left there by his mom. Apparently the family was homeless and the mom didn't want the kid to have to live on the streets in a cardboard box and shit."

"Oh. That's… horrible. To have to think like that."

"Yeah. Even worse to live it." The deadness in his voice startles me. When I flick a glance at him, he's staring at the picture intently.

"I can imagine." It's the only thing I can think to say as I too look back at the picture.

He was a cute kid. And he's standing in front of Solo looking as cock-sure as the older boy, hands fisted at his hips and flashing a toothy grin. In this picture, his hair is just brushing his shoulders. He looks like I'd imagined him running amuck in the bookstore. The thought makes me start to smile but the deadness in his voice stops me.

"Trust me, Heero. You don't want to."

Realizing that he's staring back at me, I turn and for a moment I see that same deadness in his eyes. But it disappears quickly, replaced by something I have trouble identifying. He looks almost feral, a little wild. Wicked perhaps. I frown a questioning glance at him.

"I was… a feisty little bugger, Heero, even before my parents died. But after? Let's just say it took me a while to… settle down."

"What do you mean?"

"I /mean/ that I hated the kids they made me room with. One of them was the poster child for burgeoning bullies and I was a little on the short and skinny side. I put up with that bastard's shit for two months before I made my first escape attempt."

"You ran away?"

He laughs quietly. "Oh yeah! Three times."

He continues to snicker, shaking his head. After flicking a quick glance at the picture again, he turns more fully toward me, dangling his legs off the edge of the desk, and gets serious.

"I was a real hell-raiser for a while there. The first attempt lasted a whole…" he tilts his head and scrunches his face up, apparently trying to remember the details, "twelve hours I'd guess. The next time, it took them…" he scratches his head, "probably a good day and a half to find me. I faked a stomach ache in the morning and slipped out right after second period started on a Friday."

His gaze flicks back to me, but mostly he's been staring into middle-space. Memories will make you do that.

"What happened? How did…"

"Hmm? Oh, I got hungry and got caught trying to steal some food. Before I knew it, I was in the back of a social worker's car on my way 'home'." He shakes his head and huffs out a breath.

"They put me in counseling after that. Eventually I told them why I hated my roommate and they brought him in. Made us both go to a kind of mediation-slash-group-therapy thing. It pissed him off big time. Before then he'd just tried to intimidate me, but after they dragged him into counseling he stepped up the bully tactics."

He stops to think about something, suddenly barking out a laugh.

"You know, I can't even remember the asshole's name. What a jerk!"

He shakes his upper body like a wet dog before continuing. "The catalyst for escape attempt number three, was Jerk Boy deciding to /really/ rough me up. After dinner one night, he started pushing me around and hitting me. I don't know why but he never bothered with the other two kids in our room; it was like they just didn't exist.

"Anyhow when he started in on me I tried to defend myself, but he got me down on the floor and landed a solid hit to my gut. I puked. Right there, all over me and the floor and him. He kicked me while scrambling to get away from it and then left me there on the floor. I have no idea where he went or how long he was gone. But as soon as I could breath again, I was up and out of there. I didn't even so much as change my shirt. I just grabbed my school bag, crammed as much stuff into it as I could and took off. Do you know I actually remember thinking I had to make sure to get socks and underwear? And the other two bastards? Didn't even turn over in their beds to see what the commotion was.

"No matter though," he shrugs, "I was out'ta there. Ran as far and as fast as I could. I had some insane idea that if I could get back to my house, my parents' house, that I'd be fine. It was no fun, but I was gone for four days that time. I got all lost to hell and everything but did eventually end up in a residential neighborhood. Guess somebody must've noticed the dirty, derelict kid walking around in their nice clean neighborhood and called the authorities. And then it was back into the backseat of a social worker's car and back to the home. First thing the next morning, I was called into the office to see the counselor. That's when I met him." He motions with his head back toward the picture.

"Solo?"

"Yeah. A cop brought him in – Truant Officer most likely. He wasn't handcuffed or anything, just escorted. Made quite an impression on me, too; the guy was big – the cop – like a football player; had a deep rumbling voice. 'Have a seat' the cop tells him and since there were only three of those connected-chair things in the office; he sat at the far end from me. I just kept staring between him and the cop until he finally noticed me.

"He moved over to the center seat and I must've looked scared because he told me not to worry that he wouldn't hurt me. Then he said he thought I was a little too young to be getting into big enough trouble to be in the director's office, so what was I doing there."

The short pause in his story causes me to prompt him again. He's shaking his head, but there's a slight smile on his face. "What'd you tell him?"

"What I always do: the truth. I might've made it a habit to run away or hide from the things that scared me, but I never lied. I very proudly told him I'd run away three times. Do you know he laughed at me? The bastard actually laughed out loud! Told me I was obviously not very good at it if they'd caught me three times in a row. We were talking for a little and all the while he kept giving me pointers on how to do it better the next time. Can you believe that? I'm some 6 year old runt and this kid I've never met before's giving me pointers on how not to get caught!"

Not sure just what to say to that I grunt in response.

"Right. So as the cop goes in to talk to the Director, she tells Solo not to move and then says to me that I'm next. Once she and the cop close the door, I realize we probably don't have much time left so I turn to him and say 'My name's Duo' and I stick my hand out to him – like to shake hands. After a minute of looking at me funny he takes what I'm offering and says, 'Well see, that there's your problem, kid. Me, I'm solo. All the time.' And of course, young and impressionable moron that I was, I thought he meant his /name/ was Solo. So from then on, whenever I saw him, that's what I called him."

He laughs and I can't help but laugh too. Despite the less than pleasant aspects of the story there /is/ a certain amount of humor to it. We spend the next few minutes arguing over whether 'Solo' had meant to offer him a form of solidarity by way of shortening his own name or if he'd just been playing head games with a juvenile delinquent in the making. In the end we agree to disagree, but I don't really think he harbors any ill will toward Solo. Even as we argue, it's clear to me that he has fond memories of this older kid who had acted very much like a big brother and protector toward him.

By the end of the Solo discussion we've pretty much finished off our coffee and I offer to make up another round.

As he hands me his cup he says, "One secret revealed; not bad for a first cup of coffee. Which one do you want to know about next?"

Encouraged by his attitude, I stand and eye the collage for just a moment, wondering which picture's story I want next. After careful consideration, I tap one and leave him chuckling softly.

"Figured you'd get around to that one."

"I sense another mystery about to unfold," I toss at him without looking back.

As I round the corner to the bar I catch him striking a rather dramatic pose; his head tilted back with a ridiculously overacted sneer on his face. "Do I look particularly mysterious in that one?"

"Hardly," I snort. "You look like you have a serious case of gas."

He laughs heartily before launching into an explanation.

As I pour out more coffee, he tells me about his senior year Homecoming dance. The one he and Antonio hadn't planned on attending, despite their other best friend's nomination to the court. But at the last minute, Horatio – the nominee in question – changed their minds for them. He set them both up with his then-girlfriend's best friends. The problem had been that the two girls had absolutely nothing in common with him and his friend. He claims that had the photographer not insisted they stand behind their dates, each boy with a hand on their dates' shoulders, the picture would have shown Horatio and his girlfriend in the middle with him and Antonio on one side of the couple and their dates on the other. He even offered to hunt up other pictures of that night as proof that they had spent the evening in a definite boys-on-one-side girls-on-the-other configuration.

When I'm back at his side, I take a closer look at the picture. In it, Horatio and his girlfriend are the only ones that look even remotely pleased at the contact, her hand having risen to twine fingers with his at her shoulder. Antonio, whose fingertips are barely touching the girl seated in front of him, is not looking directly at the camera. He's looking slightly off center, as if trying to see the other boys out of the corner of his eyes. Duo, whose date sits between the two other girls, is slouched slightly, his hand wadded into a loose fist at the very corner of his date's shoulder.

I take full advantage of the rare opportunity to tease him. "Hmm. I'll need to make note of that: Duo Maxwell makes a disappointing date."

His eyebrows draw together questioningly for just a moment before he sniffs disdainfully at me and sips his coffee in mock anger.

"I can be an extremely /un/disappointing date when I have the occasion to be, thank /you/ very much."

He pretends to be affronted by my comment, but I can tell he knows I was kidding.

We go through a few more cups of coffee as I continue pointing at photographs and he continues to share anecdotes. At one point, I mumble something about how amazing I find it all and he asks what I mean. I tell him that, no matter how hard I tried, I'd never be able to even come close to putting something like this collage together.

When he presses for an explanation, I have to tell him that I don't have anything remotely resembling 'a life' before college. I didn't have a best friend who could set me up with his girlfriend's girlfriend so we could go to Homecoming together. I point out several of the pictures that he's told me stories about and give him what proof I can that I have no stories that could relate to any of these events.

"So you never dressed up for Halloween? Not even when you were little?"

"When I was little, sure," I admit, "but after my parents died; I never did it again. My uncle didn't see the point in it."

"That really is pretty fucking sad, Heero."

I can't help the bit of anger and bitterness that creeps out of me and before I can control it, I answer. "Yes, especially when compared to you, I'd say I'm 'pretty damned pathetic'."

"I didn't say you were pathetic; I said it was sad. There's a difference, you know!"

I toss a small glare in his direction. "Semantics, Duo."

"I'm always up for some antics, Heero!" He gives me a light kick in the shin and grins evilly at me.

I roll my eyes and he laughs at me.

"Yes, but remember, in your own words, I am 'a sad little man'."

"Come on, Heero, I just meant that it was sad – as in depressing – that you never did any of these things. Not that I thought you were /pathetic/ for not having done any of it. It's not like you had much choice in the matter!"

"Yes, but even after I was out from under my uncle's sphere of influence I still didn't do much with myself. Trust me, on the social end of things, I'm pretty pathetic."

"Oh come off it, now you're just being melodramatic. You have close friends. I've heard you talk about them."

"Honestly Duo, I didn't have /any/ friends in high school or in college except for my roommate. Hell, if it weren't for Trowa I never would have met Quatre or Wufei, and they're pretty much the only friends I do have."

"Aside from me." He cocks his head as if to imply that it goes without saying.

"Right, aside from you. But you're a relatively new development."

I smirk and he returns it with one of his own.

I don't think I'm getting across just how different we are. It's not that I want him to feel sorry for me; it's just that he probably can't understand what it's like for me. He's so friendly, so easy to talk to, so dead sexy, so… popular for lack of a better word, it must be very easy for him to make friends.

An idea occurs to me. "Humor me here. I have what? Three friends?" When he opens his mouth to object, I hold up a hand to forestall the argument and quickly amend my statement. "Sorry, four friends. Close or otherwise."

"Alright."

"And you? What do you have? I know of two very close friends," I point to a picture of him with Horatio and Antonio. "Then there's Gibson – whom you went to school and are still friends with; Miss Noin – you can't tease someone the way you tease her and not be friends; The Girls – who practically worship the ground you walk on; the guys we played pool with at the Ale House, and last – but most definitely not least – there's Hilde. That's a good fifteen to twenty people that you're regularly friendly with. And that's not counting all the other people you work with and the ones I don't know about."

"Yeah, but I live in a relatively small town" he counters "and that increases the chances that the people you went to high school with will be around for a while; so that accounts for Gibson and the guys from the Ale House. And some of them I /still/ go to school with. The Girls are like grandmothers, so I don't think it quite counts the same way. And Noin and Hilde are coworkers. So really that only leaves me with Horatio, Tonio and /you/."

I give him a blank face at that second to last statement. "I would bet copious amounts of money that Hilde is more than just a coworker."

"Alright fine, I'll give you that one. Even so, she's more of a pain in the ass big sister than a friend. But then what? By my count that makes us even."

"Hilde is like an annoying sibling?" In light of what I overheard not so long ago, I'm having a seriously hard time with this assessment!

"Oh yeah! You don't know her, man; she's like a /major/ pain in my ass."

He tips his mug in an attempt to get the dregs of his presumably ice cold coffee and practically chokes on it when I blurt out: "Into incest are we?"

"What!" He puts the mug down and slowly turns to face me.

"Nothing," I grumble with just a hint of… anger maybe? I don't understand why he's being so circumspect about this and if I'm honest with myself his evasiveness is bugging me. "So she's like a sister to you. Not necessarily someone you'll have a relationship with until 'death do you part'?"

"Dude, it is too fucking early in the morning to be thinking about that." He closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"To be thinking about death?"

His head shoots up and he levels a frown at me. "Naw man, about being stuck with Hilde until my dying day!"

"Duo!"

"What? Look, even though she is a voluntarily acquired family member, I guess you /are/ kind of stuck with family until you die – or they die for that matter. But honestly, Heero, some days she makes me wish I was the harbinger of death. Better yet, the angel of death himself, ready, and more than willing, to smite her and put /her/ out of /my/ misery."

I am thoroughly confused, and maybe a little shocked at his opinion of her. It's not like I'm really all that keen on his marrying her, but shouldn't he at least be a little more enthused about it? He had appeared to be the other day, had something happened since then?

"That's not a very nice thing to say about the girl you're eventually going to marry," I counter softly, hoping that he'll tell me what's going on.

"Marry?" His tone of voice is subdued and he looks puzzled. "Why would you… think that? It's not like that between us. We are /not/ getting married."

It takes me a little time to process what he's said and I just stare at him as it sinks in. But it makes no sense? I distinctly heard him.

"Duo you proposed to her. I… I overheard you, the other day. I was on the patio, having lunch, and I overheard you. You said: 'Sure you wanna get married?' and she nodded. Then there was woohoo-ing and hugging, and an 'I'm so happy' in there. too. You two were practically going supernova. I do have an almost eidetic memory, you know."

"A what?"

"An eidetic memory. I can pretty much recall any conversation I've heard when I set my mind to it."

"OK, fine, Mr. Photographic Hearing…"

"Actually, that'd be more like 'phono'graphic."

"Whatever, Mr. Total Recall! Problem is that just because you remember precisely what she or I said does /not/ mean that you understood what we were talking about."

"So what were you talking about, if not marriage?"

"Actually we were, technically, talking about marriage but the truth is - " He scratches his head, giving me a shaky grin and mumbling quickly "and this would officially put me one up on you, but I don't think we're really counting anymore - that she's engaged to a good friend of mine from high school."

His face has gone from shaky grin to all-out mega-watt smile. And growing. Of course I think the size of the smile is directly proportionate to the amount of time I sit here with my jaw dropped open.

"Shocked, much?" He hops off the side of the desk, pulling the empty coffee cup from my hands. "If you were that curious, why didn't you just ask, Heero?"

"I don't know." I do actually, I know exactly why: I was jealous in some dark corner of my of soul, and afraid of making a fool of myself if I broached the subject. "I guess… I had just chalked it up to… inevitability." I'm still having a little trouble coming to grips with this new development. He's not marrying Hilde!

His voice comes to me quietly in the next moment, almost as if he hadn't meant for me to hear him. "Happy?"

I can feel myself smiling. Oh yes. Very happy.

"Damn! What'd she do to rub you the wrong way? Usually takes more than a month for her to thoroughly wear on someone's senses."

Much clearer now, his question snaps me out of my placid stupor. "What?" I look up to find Duo standing right in front of me.

"You were grinning like a loon, Yuy. She must've done something downright evil to piss you off so quickly."

"N-No. God no! I… I hardly know her, actually." Horror dawns on me at the thought that I'd so carelessly failed to control my reaction to the news. What must he be thinking? I look back up to find him leaning against the desk, smiling a silly smile.

"It's alright." He pats me on the head like a little kid. "She can be pretty scary even if she's not trying. And I know this is going to sound like I'm contradicting myself, but she's really not all that bad. A pain in the ass, but not all bad."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I…"

I spend the next two minutes stumbling out apologies and attempting to cover my totally inappropriate reaction to his anti-marital announcement. I don't know half of what's coming out of my mouth. And it's his bark of laughter that finally puts an end to my rambling.

He ruffles my hair again, grinning. "You're babbling, dude. Nothing to apologize for. Though God only knows what was going through your head, 'cause I can't imagine the news of my eternal bachelorhood would be cause for such happiness. And hey…"

I manage to keep the 'Don't be so sure about that' to a mental and not a verbal. I do not, however, manage to stop the mental leaps at the reasons behind why he might never get married.

"…so if you're interested, I can pretty much guarantee it."

Damn it, I missed something again. "What?"

He looks at me with the most incredulous expression. "Snap to, Heero! You seem to be loosing the thread of conversation here. I said that if you're worried about finding a replacement in case your roommate moves, I can pretty much guarantee my eternal bachelorhood, but we might need to negotiate on relocation. I kind of like it here."

I… Don't think, don't rationalize, don't speculate. "OK." No stray thoughts allowed.

"OK? OK what? You'll…," he waves his hand around.

No stray thoughts. "I'll take it under advisement."

"Aaaalrighty then." He takes a step away, eyeing me warily. "You gonna be OK by yourself for a few minutes there?"

"I'm fine, Duo. Going somewhere?"

"Gotta pee again. Coffee does that to me."

I shake my head, waving him off. "Have fun."

He laughs, moving away quickly. "/Fun/ would take a little longer than a few minutes, Heero."

"And peeing shouldn't take a /few, Duo." I retort.

"Touché!" He stops just before turning into the hallway. "Hey, you got any plans for this afternoon?"

"Not really. Got something in mind?"

He gives me a tight nod, holding a finger up, asking me to wait. "Be right back," he says and disappears around the corner.

Some days, I think this man will be the death of me. He has the uncanny ability to pull me completely out of my center of controlled calm and throw me into unmitigated chaos. His verbal parries, his quick wit, and his unfailing ability to switch mental tracks – regardless of the topic – always have me struggling to keep up. Thinking in a clear and orderly progression while in his presence is nearly impossible. It is frustrating and yet oddly satisfying. Tiring and invigorating. He's like a head rush. And the worst thing is that I love every minute of it.

I haven't figured out what compels me to be with him before he returns, dressed and raring to go, but I really don't think it matters. He needs a ride into town to run some errands: to drop his bike off at the repair shop, to return movies he'd rented, and to pick up the truck from his uncle's house.

In return for my chauffeuring him around, he offers to buy me dinner from a place that has 'great sushi for really cheap'. When I mention that the words 'great', 'cheap' and 'sushi' should probably not be spoken in the same sentence, he jokes about my lacking a sense of adventure. He continues to razz me about it for the whole time it takes to get out of the apartment, down the stairs and to where I'd left my assigned golf cart parked earlier. On the way to the ferry, I finally get a full accounting of the incident with the bicycle. That allows me to razz him in return for the length of the ferry ride, all 150 seconds of it. By the time we're ensconced in my rental car, we've switched conversational tracks two more times and are discussing the upcoming festival at the resort.

As I pull onto the main road heading into town, I am reminded of a line from the movie The Princess Bride: 'Truly he has a dizzying intellect'. Without even weighing the possible outcomes, I tell him. It does not surprise me at all when, instead of taking offense, he not only laughs, but feeds me the next line, 'Wait 'til I get going', and then proceeds to joke that if I'm feeling dizzy we might be better off with him driving.

It brings me back to my earlier thoughts of how much I enjoy his company. I wonder sometimes if what I feel is what it means to be smitten. I do so enjoy being with him. I crave him like no one and nothing before and I'm struck by another one of those damned stray thoughts:

My name is Heero Yuy; I am an addict. And Duo Maxwell is my fix.

TBC


	7. Secrets

Splendor Restored 7/13+E 

Author: BadMomma

Warnings: AU (my first), limey

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Archived: GWA, Under the Bridge

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.

Notes: See Chapter 1 (Does anyone even remember that chapter?)

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

**07Secrets**

"Like Ringling Brothers?"

"Yes."

"The circus people?"

"Yep."

"He lived with a circus?"

"Mmhm."

"No way! That's every kid's dream." I look at him sideways and catch a faint smirk on his face. "Are you pulling my leg?"

He shakes his head and I see an eyebrow rise from behind his sunglasses. It's that eyebrow, I've figured out, that says I'm amusing him.

"His family was circus people. If you don't believe me, ask him when he gets here. If you want, and you can get the weekend off, you can come with us when we go visit his sister next month."

"You're serious!"

"Yes." He looks like he's trying to keep from smiling. He's probably just fooling around.****

"I don't believe you. Admit it, OK, joke on the small town kid is up. You're kidding, right?"

"Duo, why would I lie about this? He'll be here in a few weeks and you would find out anyway. If you want, I'll call him and tell him to bring you some proof. What do you want, pictures? Costumes? Playbills? He might even have something he can email me…"

"Oh no, no, no. I don't think so, buddy, I'm not letting you call ahead and warn him. This is probably some elaborate joke you pull on unsuspecting strangers, right? Something you came up with back when you were in college? You had a few pictures taken at the circus, doctored them up to look like he worked there? Come on, admit it!"

His face takes on a very serious look, but a hint of amusement still tugs at it. "Whether you believe me or not, it is the truth. His parents were with the circus. They were originally performers and then later they just trained the other acrobats. They taught Trowa, too, which is how he managed to go to school on a gymnastics scholarship."

"So that's how you two met?"

He nods. "Because of school, yes, not because of the gymnastics; we had the same major. His being involved in gymnastics is how we met Relena."

"Your boss's daughter?"

"Yes."

"The one that has the hots for you, eh? The one that'll be here in a couple of weeks?"

"Yes, and thank you /so much/ for reminding me."

"Oh, no problem. Anything for a friend."****

He frowns in a halfhearted show of anger, but relaxes it quickly. He's probably not mad – just not looking forward to her arrival. "Yes, well. Are we ever going to get to this great spot on the beach you told me about?"

"Yeah, it's just over those rocks."

"We have to climb over those rocks?"

"Not necessarily /over/ them, we can just to duck down around in front of them. See, there, right at the water line. We can sneak across underneath."

"Sneak?"

"Yeah… it's not illegal or anything! We just gotta duck under a bit. Otherwise you have to go out too far into the water and you'll get soaked. We really don't have time for a swim today. I just wanted to show you the view from this place. The houses on the other side of the channel are slick."

"So other than the view of expensive homes, what's so great about this spot, again? I'm sure you and your friends didn't gather here for the view."

"No tourists?" I venture innocently.

"Duo, I /am/ a tourist."

"Not anymore, you're not. You've been working here for over a month, right? So that makes you almost a local. And anyway, you're my guest."

"Guest?" His step falters momentarily. "Is this private property? Is that why we haven't seen anyone out here? We're not trespassing, are we?"

"Jeez, Heero, lighten up! I told you already, we're not doing anything illegal. It's a Tuesday afternoon; people are working and shit. It's no wonder there's no one around."

"So then why do I have to be your guest?"

"Look, you don't /have/to be my guest, you just are. Not that I think anyone'll be out here, but sometimes the locals get a little territorial, that's all. It's our little… secret spot, I guess you could say."****

"Secret spot?" There go his eyebrows! "Sounds to me like you do a sight more than swimming if you need a /secret/spot to do it in."****

"Straight to the point, huh?"

"Just curious."

I laugh. The guy is sharper than a tack and blunt as all get out. "Yeah well, maybe when I was younger, me and the guys /might/have done some not-so-legal stuff here."****

"Like what?"

"Aw nothing major.You know, just teenage stuff. We'd get some booze or someone would bring some weed and we'd just hang. Sometimes the guys would bring their girls and…" I wiggle my eyebrows at him and he raises that damned eyebrow again in response.

"You had sex on the beach?" This time his whole face scrunches up to express his intense dislike of the idea.

"Well, I don't know if they actually had sex. It's not like we all got together and had orgies." I shake my head at him. "Here, hold this a minute."

I hand over the pack with the few things we brought to see if we can get around the rock without having to wade in too far. I only bump my head twice while crossing and the water barely reaches my knees. When I make it to the other side, I step back and call over the rocks at him.

"OK Heero, toss the bag over and then come across. Just keep your head down and your back against the overhanging part. You should be fine."

"Ready?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

I catch the bag and step back to the edge of the water. I see his feet and legs being lapped at by the waves but he's not moving. "You coming?"

"Yep."

He steps away from the water's edge and I wonder if he's going to try to climb over. Before I can warn him about just how rough those rocks are, though, I see him head straight into the surf and wade in about hip deep.

"Heero you'll get soaked!" But my warning is too late and by the time he rounds the edge of the rock, I see that the water is half way up his chest and his shorts and shirt are in hand and overhead.

For a moment I'm frozen in place. My God has he stripped down just to get in the water? This guy has no body shyness at all! As if it wasn't bad enough when he answered the door in his underwear when I went to pick him up! I swear to God I about had a heart attack. And then, he spends the next twenty minutes ever so casually puttering around the kitchen, offering coffee and toast and 'would you like some butter on that?', while he licks it from his fingers. Fuck! Butter. Like my brain had needed any more stimulation than it was already getting. I'd had to avert my eyes so fast I almost gave myself whiplash in the process. I could have sworn he'd been smirking when he'd finally gone upstairs to get dressed.

And now this! My body's still making all sorts of mental – and physical – leaps, trying to wrap itself around it all when he begins to walk back up to shore. It's only now that I see he hasn't stripped bare; he's left his underwear on. His black, skin tight, plastered wet on that damned body underwear. I have a hard time strangling down the thoughts that come bubbling back up. Damn!

Time to avert the eyes again, says the brain, lest we be caught ogling. I turn and make like I'm looking for a good spot to set our things down. A good spot – as if. It's just him, me and butt-load of sand here.

"Here OK with you?"

"Yeah, anywhere's fine." Out of the corner of my eye I see him putting his clothes on the rocks.

"I'm actually kind of hungry, can we eat now?"

"Sure, sure. We can eat."

…my heart out! Damn, this guy is fine looking.****And he's going to be sitting here half naked – no, pardon me, nine-tenths naked – and wet. Shit, I don't know whether to rejoice or be depressed. It's like the man has suddenly gone into tantalizing mode. Ever since last weekend, it feels like everything he's said and done has been weirdly… sensual. OK, maybe that's just me reading into things, but shit, this is getting ridiculous.

It's a struggle to get my heartbeat back to sub-NASCAR speeds. I pointedly ignore him when he sits down. Methodically, I pull things from the pack, laying them out between us on the one towel we brought.

I'm not looking. I'm not looking. I'm not looking.

"Do you mind if I sketch a little while we eat?"

From the corner of my eye - I'm not looking – I see him wave the pad in the air.

"Nah, go'head." Ham on white has never held my interest the way it does today. Not looking!

He flips the book open to a clean page and takes a look around. "So, you were saying?"

"Um? What were we talking about, again?"

Like I can remember! Especially when, wet dream that you are, you're gonna be sitting right next to me. Wet. In underwear. Thin, clingy, sexy, wet underwear. Not looking.

"About having sex."

"Excuse me?"

God tell me I did not just say /any/ of that out loud. ****

"About you guys bringing your girlfriends here to maybe have sex. Did you bring any girlfriends here?"

"Oh, I uh… no. No, I didn't bring any girls here to have sex. Why were we talking about this?"

And can we/please, change the subject.

"You brought it up."

"Oh, yeah. I did, didn't I?"

Yeah, before you got half naked and distracted me damn it! Shit! I'm not looking.

He's chuckling quietly at my discomfort. "So were you a virgin? In high school?"

"No! I… Look Heero, I'm not into exhibitionism, OK? If I was going to do it with anyone, I did it discreetly. And I didn't sleep around either. I only had one steady late in my senior year and we, uh… did it in a bedroom, OK?"

Yes in my own room to be precise, and he practically mauled me, but I'm not mentioning that.

Pencil still poised against the paper, he looks up at one of the houses. Then, after shooting a quick glance in my direction, he bends over the paper again.

Hmm. I never noticed before that some soda cans have these little ridges at the top of the can. I leave off studying my can when I notice him staring straight at me.

"Sorry?"

"A classmate?" From the look on his face, he's repeating himself.

"No. A customer actually." I look away and suddenly realize how bad that might sound. I turn back to him, shaking my head to deny whatever he might have made of that stupid comment. "Someone I met while doing deliveries for the sushi joint we went to. Remember I mentioned I'd done delivery for them one summer?"

"Ah yes." He nods and turns back to his pad, blocking in some lines to give his sketch size perspective. Suddenly, his whole upper body shakes with a silent chuckle. "Gives new meaning to the words 'thirty minutes or less', no?"

"Heero!"

He forestalls my indignation with a sincere sounding 'Sorry', but there's still a hint of amusement in his features. "I'm sure you didn't do anything inappropriate during work hours."

"Damn straight, bubba!"

"I should know you well enough to know you would never", he pauses just long enough to make eye contact, "lay down on the job."****

My only answer is a groan. He has the most demented sense of humor and his deadpan delivery just seems to add to the strangeness.

"Can we, please, not continue discussing Duo Maxwell's /limited/ high school sex life."

"Sorry, just making conversation."

He puts the pad down and picks up his sandwich. I hope this line of conversation has finally been put to rest. At least I no longer need to concentrate so hard on not looking at him. Oops. So much for not thinking about those things.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. I was a virgin until I got to college."

He smiles shyly at me but it doesn't really do anything to ease my discomfort. I guess he realizes after a minute that I don't really want to continue this conversation so he prompts, "What do you want to talk about then?"

"How 'bout we talk about you. You know practically my whole history." Except the boyfriend part, I append silently. "When and where I worked, where I went to school, where I lived, who I lived with, who I grew up with. But I barely know anything about you. Except for what I've picked up from eavesdropping on your phone calls."

"You've been eavesdropping on my telephone calls?"

"Well… it is kind of hard not to listen when you talk to your boss on the speaker phone with me in the same room. And of course there's that little matter of your disgruntled look when he mentions that his little darling is coming to the resort on vacation in a few weeks."

"Must you continue to bring that up?"

"Is she that bad?" I can't help but laugh at the face he makes whenever I bring it up. And by the looks of it now, he does not find my amusement over the situation even remotely humorous.

"What was it you wanted to know about me?" He asks, not quite pulling off the innocent look.

I knew he would try to change the topic but I say nothing,giving him a look that clearly indicates I'm wise to his tactics but refuse to budge.

"Fine." He sighs dramatically. For effect, I think. "What do you want to know about her?"

"Well for starters, what's with the ulcer face every time her name comes up? Is she some horrible hag of a woman? Disfigured? Goulish? Uber-nerd with coke-bottle glasses? Or a total harpy, dragon-bitch kind of wench?"

He shakes his head, but more out of amusement and disbelief, I think, than anything else.

"She's…" he purses his lips together – rather cutely I notice – and struggles with what to say. "She's cute, really. I guess you could say she's an attractive girl. In a naïve, cheerleader sort of way. She's very bright. And actually, she's kind of nice… just slightly annoying."

"Cute and kind of nice. And only slightly annoying? This doesn't seem like a great cause for concern."

"She likes me!"

It's my turn to raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, so? What's the big deal? I think you're a nice enough guy, now that I've gotten to know you; so does most the staff. And your roommate must like you."

"She's obsessed with me, OK? It was bad enough when we were at school and she'd follow Trowa around just to have an excuse to run into me, but at least I didn't have to be in the same building with her for eight hours a day. Now Trowa and I have to constantly lock our office door to be able to get any peace and quiet. She's always coming up with reasons to come by our department. She follows me around the office. She maneuvers herself to be responsible for her department's deliverables on my projects so she can have an excuse to schedule 'consultations' with me. I mean really, Duo, the week before I left, every time I turned a corner she was there… watching me. It was downright creepy."

"I take it you really don't like this chick?"

"It's not that, it's just…" He shrugs and thinks about it for a moment. "No. Not in the way I know she likes me. Not at all!"

Can I just say that I am totally down with that!

After a few moments' silence, he looks up at me again with a hopeful gleam in his eye. "So. What was it you wanted to talk about again?"

I laugh outrightthis time, and his face takes on that little boy look I so love seeing. I figure it's about time for me to let him off the hook and allow the subject change.

"Oh, I don't know. Tell me about how you hooked up with this Trowa guy and about your other friends. How you ended up working for the father of a girl you obviously have no intention of dating and apparently don't like all that much."

"OK. And I don't exactly dislike her, she's just… well, the whole 'smitten' thing is a little disconcerting."

And so he talks and we eat. And I learn about Trowa, the gymnast, architecture and art design student, who lived across the hall from him first semester freshman year. How they ended up trading roommates before their first holiday break without a blessing from residence halls because their original roommates were both waste cases and they were both studious. How they met and befriended the infamous Relena, daughter of Mr. Dorlain, partner in their firm. How they got an apartment together as second semester sophomores – the same one they lived in until moving to a better one recently. How they interned together, graduated together and went to work at the same firm together.

It dawns on me that even if he does like guys and had known I did too – and it wasn't something I think he'd picked up on yet – it didn't look like it'd be doing me much good. I was starting to think maybe he and Trowa were more than just friends.

And damn, but this man is gorgeous! I can't help but look at him while he speaks – I mean, it's rude not to look at someone that's talking to you, right? – but after a few minutes of hearing about his life,all I can think is 'damn he's hot'. I'm enthralled just watching him! The angle of his jaw and the movement of his neck as he speaks. The way the muscles in his shoulders and back shift as he leans to get chips out of the bag. Shit! He's the frickin' statue of David come to life! I watch the muscles on his arm when he lifts the sandwich to his mouth. And that mouth!

"…was nice of them, don't you think?"

I reluctantly tear my eyes away from his lips and make brief eye contact before staring at the soda can I've been sipping from. I'm pretty sure that last comment was a question and the expectant look on his face pretty much confirms it, but I'll be damned if I can remember what he said. All I vaguely remember hearing was 'nice' somewhere earlier in the conversation and thinking damned straight those lips are nice!

"Uh, yeah, that's nice. Real nice."

He bursts out laughing so hard and so suddenly I'm afraid he might bust a gut. Guess that was the wrong answer! He's almost doubled over from laughing and I can't help but wonder at what I might have missed.

"I'm sorry." He covers his face with one hand and holds up the other between us. He's still laughing, but seems to be trying to control it. "I'm sorry." He repeats and tries again to stifle the laughter.

I keep staring at him, soda can halfway to my mouth, and wonder when I'll find out just what the hell I agreed to.

"Oh God, Duo… I am so sorry. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time."

"Hey, no problem. Glad I could be of assistance. Though I'm not sure what-all I said that was so funny."

Nobody likes to be the butt of someone else's joke, and even though I usually handle it pretty well, I'm starting to worry here. He's kind of scaring me.

"Oh, but it was!" He starts chuckling and I have to wonder again at what I missed. "Maybe we should go back to talking about you. Apparently my life is a little boring." He picks up his soda can and proceeds to drain it.

For a moment I am distracted by his body again until his words filter through to what's left of my functioning brain. "No! Why? I want to hear it! Why would you think you're boring me?"

"Duo, you just agreed that having two circus freaks take me in and adopt me at the age of 23 was 'Real nice'. Either you have some strange ideas about what adult life should be or you weren't listening."

Oops!

"And since I already know that you very firmly believe that kids should take responsibility for themselves as soon as they can…" He cocks his head to the side and smirks.

Busted.

Damn his smile is disarming despite being laced with a little sarcasm. "Right." I grimace and he huffs a laugh for my benefit.

"It's OK. I know I'm boring. Some people aren't all that good at telling stories and apparently I'm one of them."

"No, God Heero, I'm the one that should be sorry. I…"

Let my libidinous mind get the best of me while you were talking?

"I just got a little distracted…"

By your incredibly sexy body?

"Sorry! God I can't believe I was so rude. I just did one of those mental tangent things. You know, you said something that made me think of something else, that made me remember something else, then I thought of another related thing, then…"

He's looking at me like I've lost my mind. OK, time to get the conversation back on track and on him. Quick. But what to ask?

"So… I imagine you must have been real popular on campus. What with your brooding good looks and your quiet, mysterious nature."

He grunts his disagreement, but I forge ahead.

"Come on, you're gonna tell me your boss's daughter was the only one following you around. That you didn't have hordes of admirers clamoring for a date with you?"

"Actually, I didn't really date."

"I thought you said you lost your virginity in college."

"I did. But that's not the same as dating."

"One night stands, Heero? I wouldn't've thought you the type!"

He snorts a smirk. Whether it's amusement at my reaction or at his own situation, I'm not sure. "Not quite that either." He finally shrugs.

"Then what /was/ it?"

"It was…" he shrugs again, "hard to say, actually."

This only serves to spike my curiosity. I rub my hands together briskly, grinning for all I'm worth. "Oh! I like the sound of that. Have I, perchance, stumbled upon a 'Yuy secret'?"

His reaction encourages me even more. That boyish, almost bashful, smile of his comes fully to the forefront. If I'm not mistaken, there might even be a hint of color on his cheeks as he looks down and away. It startles an evil laugh out of me.

"Hoo now!" I point a finger right in his face. "Now you've really got to tell!"

"There isn't much to tell."

He stalls by taking a sip from his soda and I wait him out. My face clearly indicates that I expect an explanation. Guess it takes him a few minutes to figure out how to tell it without it sounding too bad. Finally, mustering his courage, he shoots me a sideways glance before staring back out at the water.

"Logistically speaking, 'dating' implies that there's a relationship of sorts. It usually involves planned outings, public appearances, some form of affectionate contact, the expectation of a recurrence – things like that. And usually with only the one person."

I nod my understanding. "Holding hands, dinner and a movie, the 'significant other'. Got it. So?"

"So it wasn't really like that for me." He struggles again for the right words. "I guess you could say I had sexual encounters with people. People I'd met while tutoring at the lab or in a class or at a lecture. I knew them, they knew me. There would've been a comment or a look, some spark of interest, at some point. And sooner or later, we'd end up in bed together. There was never anyone 'special' or 'significant'." He shakes his head, as if to say he can't explain it any other way.

"You make it sound tawdry, Heero. Like you were trolling for conquests." I let loose a nervous little laugh, I hadn't really meant to share that stray thought aloud.

"It wasn't really like that, though. It may not sound like the most wholesome situation – and it wasn't, really - but it's not like I was bedding half the student population at any given time, either. There was just the occasional… event. Something that happened every now and again. I'd have a few experiences with one person and then they'd move on. All told, there were only a handful of people."****

He looks mildly embarrassed now, concentrating on the soda can, turning it round and round in his hands. I feel guilty for teasing him about it so I offer the only kind of support I can think of - what's grown to be a habit between us. I give him a little shove with my arm. He's sitting far enough away that if I try to bump shoulders with him it might topple us both. Much as I'd like to be /toppling/ with him, it's not what he needs right now.

"I totally understand," I tell him. "You know, been there, done that. Or at least, close."

He turns a surprised, slightly hopeful, look at me. "Really?"

I breathe out a reluctant sigh. "Yeah." I'd prefer not to share this information either, but I guess it's only fair. One for one and all that. "I tried dating a bit in high school but it… just didn't work out for me."

"But you had-"

My first time, yeah. I nod to let him know I know what he meant.

"/That/ was my one official dating experience. And it did not end well. After that it rarely ever 'escalated' again." It's my turn to shrug. Embarrassed more by what I didn't do – refused to do – than what I did.

"So you've only-?"

"Just that once? No. Technically more than once, and more than one person all told, but… yeah only the one real dating experience. And I've spent years battling to get past it. Not that I still harbor feelings for…"

I stop, surprised at the hint of anger still lingering and in fear that I'd almost let slip the word 'him'. "Like I said, it didn't go well and I've never quite let myself trust anyone like that again."

He laughs suddenly, cheeks tinged the slightest bit of red. "My first one was pretty disastrous too." Turning wide eyes at me, he confides quietly. "I didn't have the slightest fucking idea what I was doing. It was an RA from my building the first summer I was there. It was probably like one of those really bad pornos with the Young Innocent and the Older Experienced partner."

We both laugh at his description of it.

"At least you learned from it and moved on. And unless you were lying through your teeth five minutes ago, you didn't seem to have any serious problems on future attempts. I don't think I'll ever recover fully from 'my first'. It still tops the Duo's Disastrous Decisions list."

He nods half-heartedly at my assessment, finally whispering 'I guess' after a bit. If he's anything like me he's probably turning those memories over and over in his head. We both sit quietly for a while, watching the waves.

"There was this… girl, once." Something about that comment is amusing enough to make him stop and chuckle.

Furiously ignoring the little voice whispering in my head that his statement confirms I have no chance in hell with him, I venture into better known territory. I grin. "Relena?" I am innocence personified in the asking.

"No," he replies sternly, tossing me a disgruntled frown that acknowledges my editorial comment for what it was. "My freshman year."

"But not your first?"

"Technically. No."

Technically? What the hell? Unless- he's talking again.

"She showed up at the math lab one day, looking for help with some homework problems."

"Wait! You worked at the math lab your freshman year?"

"Yeah? My advisor recommended me. I scored well enough on my placement test to CLEP out of my first few math requirements."

"You're a math geek!" I accuse, pointing my finger and laugh riotously.

"I've already told you what living with my uncle was like, I don't see why you're so shocked."

"Sorry. You're right." I try to school my face into a more serious and attentive expression. "Go ahead, so what happened with this chick?"

He raises that damned eyebrow at me again, but continues with his story. "Well, I was the only available tutor that first time she showed up; so I helped her. Or at least I think it was the first time she'd shown up, it was the first time I'd ever seen her there asking for help. I explained the exercise and had her do a few extra problems, but when we were done she wouldn't leave. That in and of itself was extremely unusual because people always left once they'd gotten what they'd come for. But she didn't; she /wouldn't/. And even though I started working on my own homework again, she just kept talking to me and asking me questions. She hung around for over hour. I finally decided it was close enough to the end of my shift and made an excuse about having to go to class just so she'd leave me alone."

"I take it that it didn't end there?"

"Hardly. It was about a week before I saw her again and then all of a sudden she was there every time I worked. At first I thought it was just coincidence, you know – that maybe she'd hit a really difficult spot on her course load and she was struggling. But then I began to notice that she always waited for me to be free to help her, or she'd show up with her homework all done and ask me to review and correct it. And wherever she'd made a mistake, it was always something really stupid, something she'd done right on other problems."

Oh God, I was right; he did have women stalking him for his looks. "She was deliberately making those mistakes, right?"

"Yes!" He looks shocked that I figured it out so quickly.

I wave it off, wanting him to get to the heart of it. "And then?"

"And then… I don't know. I guess I got used to her; she'd become part of my routine. It became less distracting when she talked while I did my homework. And sometimes, if I had no homework, I'd help her with her other classes or we'd pass the time ragging on our professors. Then one day, as I'm closing up the lab, she asks me to walk her back to her room. On the way there, I kept wondering if she'd meant just 'walk her back' because it was dark out or if she'd meant 'back to her room' because she wanted me to come inside."

He stops again, to take a drink, and I have just enough time to wonder at the way the voices in my head keep waffling. Earlier part of me was convinced he had something going on with Trowa, then part of me was convinced he was straight. Right now there seems to be a major debate, and not the tiniest bit of hope, on the chance that he swings both ways.

"So what was the verdict?"

"Inside. All the way." He shakes his head for a few silent moments.

"Heero! What happened?"

"It was awful. She went straight from telling me her roommate was away for a few days to sticking her hand down my pants." He covers his face and continues the tale in embarrassed mumbles. "I was so nervous, so scared shitless; but you know, the human body has a mind of it's own. Before I knew it we were half naked and I was wearing a condom. And then-" He looks up suddenly and motions forcefully with his hands. A rather obvious, thrusting motion. His face is priceless. "We were-"

"Doing the Horizontal Bop? Bumpin' Uglies? Doin' the Nasty? Making the Mo' Better?"

He purses his lips. "Nice terminology," he deadpans, "but yes."

I love his tone of voice when he doesn't quite appreciate my more colorful vocabulary. And I can't help but tease him a little. "You did the deed?"

"I did," he says sadly. "It was awful, but I did." He laughs, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. "You don't understand, Duo, it was – quite literally – my second time and I had no fucking clue what to do with a woman's body."

The sudden and vacuous silence in my head following that statement could very well be a first for me. Previous debate over, new debate up for grabs. What exactly does he mean? Is he just suggesting he was extremely inexperienced or that his first time was with a guy? Could I be misinterpreting this? Do I dare hope? Can I even ask that question? Hell, I can't even look at him right now, much less ask that.

"But Heero, you'd…"

"Yes, yes, I know," he cuts me off quickly, "I'd had sex before. But it was nothing like my first time! I'd had Health class in high school, you know. I knew perfectly well it all boiled down to 'insert Tab A into Slot B, C or D'."

I choke out a laugh at that. "They taught you about C and D in Health class?" Doesn't take much of an imagination to wonder at what D could be. Process of elimination and all that.

He grunts. "It was a progressive school. They wanted to be sure we were aware of all the… options."

Progressive indeed! "Right. So you were schooled in the… alternatives."

"Yeah. But knowing and doing are quite a different thing. I had no clue my first time and I couldn't have been doing anything right the second either. And yet she was thrashing around and calling my name and… and all I could think was 'end it, end it, end it, end it'. It's a miracle I managed to finish at all. I was up and out of there so fast when it was over, it wasn't even funny."

He shoots me a sideways glance that I catch out of the corner of my eye. I nod as he takes a sip from his soda, staring intently at the houses on the opposite shore.

"So you and she didn't…"

He shakes his head. "Just that once was enough. I never saw her again. After that I kept to myself for a while, until I ran into… my first again and we hooked up for a while."

"I thought you said you didn't date."

"We didn't. All we did was have sex every once in a while. We'd meet after a lecture or run into each other on campus, go to one of our rooms… and have sex. I did learn a lot. I figured out what I liked and didn't like, learned to give and receive pleasure, figured out what I wanted in a partner. Eventually, though, we parted ways. I never…" He shrugs, taking another drink from his soda. "We didn't even kiss good-bye or anything. Our last conversation… was weird. We ran into each other one day and I offered, hinted really, to go somewhere." He looks back out over the water, quietly completing the tale: "I got turned down and that was it. Never ran into 'em again."

I take a page from his book and grunt an acknowledgement. We sit and stare at the water for a while, no comments, no movement. I don't even notice when Heero picks his pad up and starts sketching again.

I could read a lot into that story if I wanted to. All the references to his 'first' were eerily similar to mine: darned generic in the telling. But the truth is I'm not even sure if I do want to read something into it. Oh, sure, I want to know; the debate is raging so fiercely it's burning a hole in my brain. But then I keep thinking 'be careful what you wish for'. Despite the occasional, hormonally induced, mental lapses – like the ones earlier today – I've already made the decision that this is a friendship worth keeping, worth nurturing.

Why complicate things by voicing my questions? What purpose could it possibly serve? Best to let it be. If he's not gay, we're still friends and it won't matter when he finds out I am. At least I don't think it'll matter. And if he is, then it'll come out eventually and some day we'll look back on this conversation and laugh at how we tip-toed around it.

What will happen, will happen.

What's meant to be, is meant to be.

Que sera, sera.

Sometimes, being all philosophical and Zen about things is really hard work.

"You're thinking again." He's bent over his sketch, pencil scratching away. I catch him glance at me.

"Surprised?"

He smiles but shakes his head slightly. "When you think too hard, you get a certain look on your face."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you crunch your right eyebrow and tighten up the corners of your mouth. I've noticed."

"I /think/ many times a day, actually, and I don't think I always make a face."

"True. And while I'm sure I'm not there to watch you every time you happen to have a thought, when you're concentrating, lost in thought, you do it."

I wonder if what he says is true and instantly catch myself doing it, contorting my face in a not-quite-grimace of concentration. Since he's watching me now, he laughs. He's right and he knows I know it. He doesn't actually verbalize a response but the raised eyebrow and crooked smirk clearly say: 'See!'

I shove at his arm and grumble for him to shut up. The smirk turns into that great boyish smile as he focuses on his sketch again. I watch quietly as seemingly random lines come together to form the prominent features of another house.

"Hey Heero, what are you doing this Sunday night?"

"Huh?" He stops his sketching and shoots me a sideways glance.

"This Sunday, do you have any plans for dinner?"

"Uh, no. Isn't the festival this weekend? I'll probably just have dinner in my room afterward."

"No, the festival's only on Saturday – just the one day. It's more like a big block party than a real festival. So you have no plans? Good, cancel the room service though. Join me for dinner?"

"Sure, I'd love to." He smiles widely at me and, for the tiniest moment, I am elated. The look on his face is enough to triple my heart rate. "Are we having dinner with The Girls again?"

Great! Shot down before I even got up in the air. It's not the thought of spending time with me that has him smiling; it's the thought of spending time with The Girls. Not two months ago, I never would have imagined that the slightly uptight stranger who'd come to live at our quiet little resort would have enjoyed the company of the old gals so much. Oh well. At least I'll get to watch him all night, laughing, talking and smiling. Better than nothing, I suppose.

"Yeah, actually we're doing a Swing Night in the big dining room. I know The Girls would just love it if you joined us."

And damn it, but so would I.

So would I.

TBC

Posted 1/25/06


	8. Bonfires

08Bonfires

By the time he'd may his way to the designated spot, the butterflies in Heero's stomach had settled down. He could clearly make out the small bonfire that raged well back from the high tide line. Sitting in smaller groups around it, there were at least 25 to 30 people. Beyond that, at least another 10 to 15 were huddled on some loungers. He readjusted his grip on the six packs in his hands, took a deep breath, and trudged on. All the while repeating what had become his mantra in the weeks he'd been here/I can do this. I will have a good time. I will fit in./

The closer he got to the fire the easier it was to make out the voices of the people around it. They were drinking, laughing and telling tales of their younger days. It was clear that these people had a history together - one that he did not share. He couldn't help but ask himself if he could manage not to act completely out of place.

As he passed a small group to his left, he recognized Gibson sitting with his arm around a woman about their age. Heero nodded in response to the welcoming wave the man offered and followed the direction of the finger pointing him toward the well lit house set back a way from the water's edge. Passing the other small groups of revelers, he realized that he recognized a good number of faces, many of whom nodded or waved as he passed. None of them seemed surprised to see him here so he took their acceptance of him as a sign of welcome. Clearly they did not mind his presence.

Heading straight for the house, he could just barely make out a group of people huddled in the car port under the stairs that led to Duo's apartment. As he made his way along the path that led between a wall of four-foot-high sea grape bushes, he began to catch snippets of conversations.

He easily identified Duo, Hilde and her boss Lucy's voices telling people what to do and how to arrange things in the small area. When he rounded the corner of the bushes he was treated to the sight of Duo, bent over the open top of a cooler, filling it with ice. The other man was dressed much like himself, in a pair of loose shorts, a t-shirt and flip flops. When he stood to call for the next cooler he caught sight of Heero and waved him over.

Duo quickly introduced him to the other people there: Hilde's boyfriend Mike, Tom from the Motor Pool and Rick from Landscaping. Missing in action was Lucy's husband, Walker, whom everyone assumed had gone back into their house for something. When Lucy went in search of her wayward husband, Duo took over organizing the beverage depot, quickly putting Heero to work at filling the waiting coolers with ice.

Jax and Pax arrived a few minutes later, armed with a case of beer, just as Duo was beginning to explain the way things worked to Heero. The four of them packed their own cooler while the explanation took place.

These bonfires were held with enough regularity that a series of rules had been established to make them go more smoothly. The regulars all provided their own coolers, where each group would stash their supplies. Any guests, like Heero, would be there at the express invitation of a regular, so their beer went into that regular's stash. There were also a series of slightly battered, decorated, tin buckets lying around that easily held 6 to 8 bottles each; these were used to take the drinks down to the area of the bonfire.

In addition to this, all the regulars paid three dollars at each bonfire toward the purchase of ice, sodas and snacks for future events. Having seen Jax and Pax's money accepted, Heero, too, offered three dollars toward the kitty but was resoundingly told to put it away. Duo explained that you had to attend at least three bonfires before being considered a regular. The only reason Jax and Pax's money had been accepted was that they had attended regularly when they were younger and made it a point to do so whenever they were in town. When he'd tried to insist, Duo had laughed and slapped him on the back telling him that rules were rules, but he looked forward to being able to accept Heero's money well before the summer was out.

Each with a beer in hand and their bucket packed, the three men led the way back to the fire laughing and joking, with Heero in tow.

The evening had been progressing quite nicely from Heero's point of view. He'd spent the first thirty minutes after arriving back at the bonfire being introduced to the other attendees and getting little bits of back-story on each of them. He was ushered around initially by Duo before being commandeered by Hilde when Duo's presence was required elsewhere. His nervousness about not belonging or fitting in had lasted a little longer than he'd hoped it would, but soon enough, found himself smiling easily with the other guests.

So it was, two hours later, he found himself running a light buzz and thoroughly enjoying the company of some of Duo's oldest friends. They were sitting around on the blankets and sheets laid out over the sand, crossed legged or stretched out. Keeping him company at the moment was Hilde and Mike, Pax's sister, Clara, who clearly still harbored a slight crush on Duo despite the very real presence of her own boyfriend, Jonathan, and Lucy's elusive husband, Walker. Sitting right next to him was the very reason for his presence at the event – Duo.

Heero listened with half an ear to the conversation around him as he casually looked the man over again. In the flickering light of the fire, Heero found him even more attractive than before. The red-orange glow did nothing to diminish the liveliness of the prominent blue eyes in Duo's tanned face. If at all possible, the light seemed to heighten the mischief that lived there as he told the group a particularly funny story about the blunders he'd made his first week working at the resort. That story was followed by similar ones from the others in their group. It seemed that everyone had at least one embarrassing moment in their past to share.

Realizing that his bottle was empty and his bladder full, he began to rise, intent on resolving both those problems. A hand on his thigh stopped him when he'd made it to his knees, causing him to automatically sit back on his heels.

"You're not leaving yet, are ya'?" Duo had apparently noticed his movement.

"No, just going for a beer, we seem to have run out… and to the bathroom. Want another one?" He motioned with his empty bottle to the one resting by Duo's feet.

Handing the bottle over, Duo smiled and leaned back on one elbow, twisting his upper body toward Heero. "Sure you don't mind?"

Heero shook his head and accepted the empty bottle.

"Pax and Jax said they were going to refill the bucket, but they've been gone a long time. Why don't you go up to the house and use the bathroom in my apartment – the door should be unlocked. Oh and if you see them, tell 'em to get their asses in gear."

Heero finished getting up, nodding his agreement and smiling back at the reclined figure in front of him. His mind was quick to supply images of what he could do to that body, with that body, were the current circumstances any different. He diligently tramped down on those images. Pleasant as they might have been, his mind was quick to supply that the scenarios being played out did not appear likely to happen. Shaking his head minutely at his inability to control his wayward thoughts, he walked away from the source of his temptation.

Hadn't he been trying to insinuate his interest or catch Duo's for the last week and a half? They'd had a conversation, just days before, in which he'd been deliberately vague about his sexual past and nothing had come of it. On a few occasions, he thought he'd caught Duo watching – or perhaps ogling – him but then it would stop and he would wonder if maybe he hadn't misinterpreted the looks. Maybe he just didn't know enough, wasn't well practiced at it; it had been quite a while since he'd actually tried to catch anyone's interest and even then it had only been for short term results. Not that it wasn't part of the equation, but he wanted more than just a few bouts of sex with Duo. Had he ever even tried for that with anyone? The last time they'd talked, Trowa had suggested that he might need to be more obvious about his intentions, but he was afraid that if he pushed his luck it might backfire. If he /was/ misreading Duo's signals, he might just ruin what was turning into a really great friendship.

Approaching the side of the house, he spotted a lone figure by the coolers. Lucy's dark head swung around at the sound of his steps and she spared him a wave.

"Hey Heero, come for a refill?"

"Bathroom actually, but..." he looked around quickly, spotting their bucket, and frowned slightly. "Are Jax and Pax around? Duo said they'd come back to do the honors." He tossed the empty bottles he had in the trash bin and started to look around again but was brought back by her laugh.

"Oh yeah, they're around. One of the idiots cut his hand on a broken bottle and they went to clean and bandage it." She cocked her head in the direction of the apartment above them. "They should be back any minute now."

"Ah, thanks. Well, if you'll excuse me?" He motioned to the stairs.

"Right. Nature calls." She smiled at him one last time and rose with her own bucket refilled. "See ya' around." And with that she waved and moved off.

Heero watched her disappear around the sea-grape bushes as he ascended the stairs; the short citronella torches that lined the path reflected off the bucket she carried.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he found the door to Duo's apartment not only unlocked, but slightly ajar. Having previously been granted permission to enter, he did so without hesitation and softly closed the door behind him. He had expected to find Duo's two school friends immediately, but what he found instead was the kitchen light turned on, bloody paper towels in the garbage and no sign of the other two men. He was about to call out to them when he heard a muffled groan and low thud. Stepping toward the short hallway that led past Duo's bedroom to the bathroom, he heard another thud. And a throaty chuckle.

"Mmm. You better – ah - stop that."

"Why?"

"Jax, quit."

"We're alone now, Tonio; don't call me that. Say it."

There was another muffled groan and the door to the bathroom, which had been open just a crack, closed with a resounding thud.

"Aah… mmm… aah… Oooh!" There was a slight scuffle and the door shook. "Damn it Jax, stop. We don't have time for this."

"Say it Tonio, I wanna hear it. Just once. I've been wanting it all day."

Heero stood frozen where he'd stopped.

"Ma-aah… My Hora… Oh God, stop! Stop I'm…"

There was another, louder, muffled groan and the door shook again. He didn't make out the words immediately following, as they were hushed and hurried. Despite the fear of being discovered, he couldn't help but move closer to try to catch what was being said. Only two steps from the door, the voices rose again.

The voice that greeted his ears was a low purr. "You're a mess, Tonio."

"And whose fault is that, cabron? Damn it, Jax, my hand's bleeding again. You were supposed to be helping me bandage it, not sticking yours down my shorts."

"Here, let me help you with it." There was a throaty chuckle. "And it's your own fault, you know."

"My fault? How do you figure that?"

The water from the faucet ran for a moment and was shut off.

"Well, you've been taunting me all night."

"Taunting you! When the hell was I taun-"

Silence followed the aborted statement and then another groan.

"Oh, Horatio, why do you do this to me?"

"You know why, Tonio. You do it to me too."

"Yes, I… you're right, but not here, mi amor. Not right now, not yet. We'll have plenty of time later. Tonight."

"I'm sorry, love, I just… It's not fair that we have to pretend. Why do we have to hold back when everybody else is having a good time and showing it? Everybody's got somebody and I just wanted to touch you. I didn't want to wait until later."

"Horatio, I don't want him to find out like this. I want to tell him."

"Does it really matter how he finds out, Tonio? You said yourself he knows about you. Don't you think he'll be happy for us? He's our friend, so why would it bother him?"

"It's not that. I just want to tell him in private, not drop it on him like this in front of everybody else. I owe it to him; he's been my best friend – our best friend – since we were kids."

"Fine, I'll wait, but I don't have to like it."

There was the sound of a cupboard being opened and closed, then quiet mumbling. Heero figured they were dressing the cut again. He considered going back outside, not wanting to be found nearby when they exited the bathroom. He was just turning to leave the apartment when the door began to open.

"I'll get you a clean pair of shorts. You can't go back out there like that."

Too far from the front door that he'd closed on his way in, Heero darted back into the kitchen and hoped for another chance to make his retreat.

"Oh thank you so much, Master of the Obvious. If you hadn't had your wicked way with me, my shorts would be just fine right now."

Jax's laughter could be heard in the hallway, crossing to Duo's bedroom.

"Yes, well, you don't usually mind that, do you? And anyway, it's not like anyone will find out. We weren't that loud."

Loud enough, Heero's mind supplied sarcastically. There was a rustle of cloth then he heard a drawer pushed shut, followed by the click of the light switch. Jax's steps sounded in the hallway again, then the light spilling from the bathroom dimmed as he presumably pulled the door.

"Ah. Thanks."

"No problem. Need some help with that?"

"No, thank you. I think you've helped enough tonight. And anyway we need to get the hell out of here before Duo sends a search party. He could very well be on his way already."

There was more chuckling and quiet conversation, but Heero paid it no mind. He considered whether it would be best to go back outside and pretend that he was just coming up to the apartment when they emerged. He did still need to use the bathroom. But if someone was downstairs, or saw him leaving, there were sure to be uncomfortable questions asked, especially if he didn't make it out of the area before Jax and Pax came down the stairs. Making a hasty decision, he slipped back around the corner and shot into Duo's bedroom, hoping beyond hope, that they would just leave when they were done. He breathed a sigh of relief at not being discovered as he hid behind the door.

Standing in the dark room, it occurred to him that Duo might be wondering what was taking him so long, too, and if he'd think to question his other friends about running into him when they returned. He almost laughed out loud, wondering if he'd survive the evening the way things were going. Between the images of Duo stretched out on the blanket earlier and the very clear picture of what his friends had been doing in his bathroom; he wasn't sure that he would.

"Tonio?" Jax's voice was loud in the hallway and Heero peered through the crack between door and the jamb to watch them.

"Yeah?" Pax turned out the light in the bathroom and joined his boyfriend, who was standing in the hallway looking back at him.

"That summer - the one that I went away with my parents… the one when you told Duo…"

"Mmhm?"

"Were you guys, um, you know? Did you and he?" Jax was tilted his head left and right, motioning between them with his hand.

"Did we hook up?" There was mirth in the man's voice and Jax nodded in response. "No, babe, we didn't. It might've been nice though – he's a real good kisser. But at the time we both had it bad for somebody else." Pax smiled and kissed his boyfriend quickly before beginning to move past him down the hall.

Jax's response was a quick nod and an 'oh' before the statement sunk in and he turned to follow. "Hey, how do you he's a good kisser if you didn't hook up with him?"

"Oh, that. Um, remember that same year you went to visit family in California during Christmas break?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, we got a little drunk during the party at my house on New Year's Eve and made out in my bedroom."

"You never told me that!"

The front door was opened and quickly shut again. There was a slight scuffle and a thud.

"Jax… Horatio… look at me." There was a pause. "There is nothing going on between him and me. You have nothing to be worried about."

"Is that why you're waiting for the right moment to tell him? In private?"

"I expect you to be there when I tell him. I expect us to tell him."

There was another pause and a rustle of clothing. When Pax spoke again, his voice was muffled.

"Mi amor, it was a long time ago and it was only that one time. We were friends, we were lonely and we were both a bit drunk. It was no big deal!"

There was a dissatisfied grumble in response to that that Heero didn't quite catch.

"Don't forget that I know you too, Horatio Jackson, and your secrets."

"That's right, you do know /all/ my secrets, don't you? Is there anything else about you I should know?"

"Don't be an ass, love. There's nothing else, I swear it. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, I just hadn't thought about it until now. It really was no big deal. All we did was make out for a little while at that party; we've all done something like that at least once. Or are you suggesting that you never have?" The mirth was back in Pax's voice.

"I'd be lying if I did."

"Yes, you would, wouldn't you?" There was a rustling of clothes again followed shortly by some heavier breathing. "OK, now that that's settled can we go?"

"Alright."

The door opened and shut again, but this time Heero could hear their footsteps on the stairs. Letting out the breath he'd been holding, he made his way out from behind the door and stepped into the bathroom. This night was not turning out to be what he'd expected.

After a moment's thought, he wasn't entirely sure if that was a bad thing.

TBC

Posted-LJ 2/2/06


	9. Burning

Splendor Restored 

Author: BadMomma

Warnings: AU (my first), limey

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Archived: GWA, Under the Bridge

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.

Notes: See Chapter 1. Heero POV

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

**09Burning**

Heero took his time on the way back to the bonfire. He had a lot on his mind. For one, there was the news of Duo's attraction to men. It might make things a little easier for him. If it turned out Duo didn't like him, wasn't interested in him sexually or romantically, so be it, but at least any overtures he made would not be considered completely out of line on principle alone. Theoretically.

He idly sipped at his new bottle of beer, considering a slightly more pressing matter, that of accounting for all the time he'd been gone. He ran through various scenarios, trying to come up with one that would adequately explain his absence.

The facts were simple: Duo knew he'd gone to use the bathroom in the apartment and to try to find Jax and Pax. Lucy knew he'd gone up to the apartment and that he was looking for the other guys. Jax and Pax had been in the apartment, and the bathroom, when he should have arrived and had clearly not encountered him. If there was any chance that none of them might talk to each other for the remainder of the evening, everything would be alright. But that wasn't likely. Not at all.

No matter how slowly he walked, the bonfire kept getting closer. And the scenarios in his head weren't getting any more plausible. Taking another swallow of beer he figured he could always use one of the lame excuses he had come up with and claim temporary stupidity. /The beer made me stupid./

He felt a little more at ease when he was finally able to make out the faces surrounding the big fire. Sitting on the blanket they'd claimed earlier were Hilde, Lucy, Walker and another resort employee whose name he couldn't remember. Jax was nowhere in sight, but a little farther down the beach, Pax was kneeling in the sand next to Clara and Jonathan. Judging by the look on Clara's face, Pax was explaining how he got the bandage on his hand. And finally, squatting a few feet away and off to the right, were Mike, some guy he hadn't met, and Duo. The three seemed to be involved in a very intense conversation.

Heero decided it would be best to return to his previous seat near the ladies from Catering. Dropping into a cross-legged position, he was immediately acknowledged by Hilde, who patted him on the leg in welcome and shot him a quick smile. Still running scenarios through in his mind, he listened with half an ear to their conversation, only occasionally making input. His eyes however were entirely focused on another, far more interesting, topic.

Jax had joined the nearby group seconds after Heero's arrival and had playfully shoved his friends around before taking a seat on the other side of Duo. The four men huddled a few feet away continued their intense conversation, occasionally causing each other to laugh loudly or attempt to talk over each other. They were far enough away, and the roaring fire close enough, that Heero was unable to make out what they were saying. He found himself repeatedly staring at Duo and the way he moved as he interacted with his friends. After accidentally making eye contact with the one man from the group he didn't know, Heero forced himself to look away.

He tried to focus on the conversation between the resort employees he was sitting with, but wasn't having much success. Every once in a while, he would catch the timbre of Duo's voice over the sounds around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he would catch movement and realize Duo was surging to his knees or waving his arms around for attention. It was becoming inordinately distracting and also incredibly embarrassing. Twice Hilde had caught his returning gaze and winked at him. The third time she addressed him directly.

"They're plotting something."

He turned to the voice at his ear and mentally slapped himself for getting caught again. "Plotting?"

"Oh yeah!" She grinned, leaning on his shoulder. "See that look in Mike's eye, the concentration on Nick's face?"

Heero again returned his attention to the small group nearby. He did note a slight gleam in Mike's eye, then moved his gaze over to Nick, obviously the one he had not met yet, and was surprised to find the man quietly watching him. A quick flick over to Duo and Heero's breath caught in his throat.

Those odd-blue eyes locked onto Heero and the world tilted on its axis. Duo's face looked even more beautiful by the light of the fire, that much Heero had already realized, but what was even more amazing was the look on his face. It was borderline predatory. A near wicked curve at one corner of his mouth with just the hint of teeth showing, his eyelids drooped slightly and then rose again. Then he blinked, slowly, and turned away.

"Oh my God, we're so dead! What the hell are they planning?"

The blood was roaring in his ears and Heero could barely think straight enough to decipher the rest of what Hilde was saying. He was finally regaining his faculties when she stood to walk away.

"Heero!"

He looked up at her dumbly.

"Stay here and keep an eye on them, OK? I'm gonna go see if anyone knows what they're up to. I'll be right back."

"Stay." He uttered in agreement, unsure that he would have been capable of doing anything else had it been asked of him. Gods in heaven, what was the meaning of the look he'd gotten! Frustrated with the intense reactions of his traitorous body, Heero closed his eyes and attempted a simple breathing exercise.

In for a count of five.

Out for a count of five.

In for a count of five.

Out for a count of five.

In for a count of-

There was a warm presence at his back and a pair of hands running through his hair.

"Sorry I left you to fend for yourself so long. You doing OK?"

His heart, if at all possible, beat even faster. "F-Fine. You?"

"Oh yeah! I'm doing juuuust fiiiiiine!" Duo's hands ran back and forth through his hair, messing it up even more than usual. "You've got really great hair, man."

There was a loud snort then and the body behind him leaned in abruptly, hands and forehead dropping to his shoulder. "Oh shit, I can't believe I just said that. Sorry, dude, I must be more buzzed than I thought."

An aborted sound escaped Heero's throat in the form of a grunt. His intention had been to dismiss the comment, to tell Duo it didn't bother him, but his mouth was dry and his tongue felt numb. He raised the bottle he was still holding to his mouth only to realize it was virtually empty. He pulled it away from his face and stared at it dumbly for a moment before resting it on his knee again. He wasn't sure when he'd finished it off. His mind and his senses were extremely fuzzy for some reason.

"All out? Yeah, me too." A bottle appeared momentarily before his eyes as a long suffering sigh breezed by his ear, causing his blood to pound again. Two hands were back on his shoulders, running back and forth before settling close to his neck; the index fingers extended around the front seemingly in an attempt to touch each other.

"D-Duo?" He managed to stammer.

"Are you having fun Heero?" Duo's voice was rasping at his ear. "Not sure if I told you already, but I was really glad you said you would come tonight."

"Me too," he croaked out, considering the bottle in his hand again. He cleared his throat and tried for more. "Thanks for asking me. I'm glad I came."

"Oh good." Was the gusty reply as that warm body pressed fully against his back. Then suddenly, a hand was trailing over his right shoulder, down his arm, past elbow to wrist, over his own hand and around the bottle there.

Duo's body had followed the path closely, leaning in and around on Heero's right side. His left hand had traveled across Heero's back, fingernails scraping lightly as they passed. Heero found himself staring at Duo, who had dropped to the blanket facing him, sitting hip to knee, their thighs burning in contact.

Without word or warning, Duo lifted the beer bottle still in Heero's grasp, tipping it up toward his face until Heero was forced to release it. Right before bringing it to his mouth, he looked right at Heero. It was the same look he'd delivered before. His eyes were blazing with the reflection of the fire, his lips curled in a sensual, soft, yet feral, grin. Rather than the hint of teeth, though, Heero was treated to the appearance of a wet, pink tongue. It peaked out, lapping once at the edge of the glass before extending more fully to catch anything the overturned bottle might surrender.

"It's empty." Heero stated, rather proud that he'd managed not to stutter or croak that time.

"I see," was the short breathy answer. "We should do something about that." That feral grin was back and the eyes were lidded again.

Heero fidgeted slightly under that intense gaze, managing only to brush his leg along Duo's and worsen his situation. He looked down at his thigh when he felt warmth on it. Duo's hand was running lightly on the skin between his knee and the hem of his shorts. It was a very different touch from the one Hilde had given him earlier. He stared at the hand rubbing his thigh, trying to formulate some appropriate response and failing. As luck would have it, he was saved from the effort by Hilde's return.

"Just the man I wanted to see." She plopped on the blanket next to them, looking between the both of them. "What are you guys up to? No one seems to know."

Smiling devilishly, Duo ignored the question in favor of one of his own. "Hey Hil, will you hand me an' Heero a beer from the bucket behind you?"

She frowned and huffed but did it anyway, handing Heero his without hesitation, but withholding Duo's momentarily as a warning. Heero downed almost half of it in one go. He'd never felt so thirsty in life.

"Spill, Maxwell."

"My mommy taught me how to drink without spilling."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. What're you up to?"

"Can't tell!" He shrugged, grinning evilly.

"Why the hell not?" she demanded.

"It's a secret!" He made a face that looked like he was shocked by his own words.

"Secret, shmeecret! You can't keep secrets from me!" She playfully slapped his shoulder.

"Got to!" He shoved her back.

It was like… like watching two five year olds, or… his fuzzy mind was trying to recapture some memory but it just wouldn't come to him. Their conversation continued on in that fashion and he tuned them out. He still hadn't quite gotten over what had happened right before Hilde's return.

Heero could still feel the echo of Duo's warmth at his back, the fingers in his hair, the slide of skin down his arm, the burn of that gaze against his own, the thrill of watching that tongue. He could feel his heart racing, his breath shortening as he lost himself in those recent memories.

Someone calling for Duo from behind him snapped him out of his trance. He turned to see a group of about six guys, most of whom he'd met, beckoning his friend. Duo dropped his hand on Heero's shoulder as he moved to stand.

"Look, I gotta go for a few minutes, but I'll be back before it all gets started. Just trust me, OK? I think you'll like it." He smiled and then almost as an afterthought turned to Hilde to include her in the promise. "It's kind of stupid and… well, I hope you won't laugh later, but I think it'll be fun, OK? Oh and, uh, stay here. Don't move!"

Just before stepping away Duo's hand brushed Heero's neck, barely tugging at the very edges of the hair behind his ear. It sent a shiver down his spine.

This is getting ridiculous, Heero's mind screamed at him. You're not some virgin school boy on a first date. What are you hesitating for, idiot! He wants you; he's making overtures; how much more proof do you need!

Try as he might Heero couldn't trust that part of his mind. It was the same one that had been egging him on from the very beginning. No, he wasn't some naïve little boy, but just because Duo was being more tactile than usual didn't prove anything except that his inhibitions were down. They were both single, attractive and interested in men. Flirting didn't necessarily mean anything. He'd seen Duo flirt with plenty of other people – hell, the guy did it almost indiscriminately – so why should he be any different. Duo's friends had been right, almost everyone here was paired off with someone and he was one of the few people Duo could turn to at the moment.

Then, the thought occurred to him. If Duo could flirt with him, then he could flirt with Duo. It was only fair, his mind reassured him. As soon as he had a chance, he would return the favor. That thought produced a whole other kind of warmth inside him - one that necessitated a slight shift in his sitting position. Drawing one knee up close to his chest, he draped an arm around it. Camouflage. It was a wonderful technique. Heero closed his eyes and began to give serious consideration to what he might be able to get away with.

All too soon, though, those wonderful fingers were combing through his hair again. "You're not falling asleep on me are you? I'd hate for you to miss the highlight of the evening."

He opened his eyes to see Duo crouched next to him. Smiling lazily up at him, he replied, "Nope, just resting my eyes. So, do I need to do anything?"

Duo shook his head slowly, that strange, sweet, feral smile returning.

"I just sit here?"

"Mmhm. And watch." Duo looked pleased and mischievous.

"Watch?" His eyes traveled the length of Duo's upper body quickly before returning to his face. He attempted to duplicate that same appreciative smile Duo wore. "Good. I like watching."

Duo choked out what sounded like an aborted laugh. His hand went to Heero's head again and he lazily ruffled the hair. "I don't think I've ever seen you this relaxed, Heero. It's a good look for you." The pleased smile was back.

Heero hummed a response, reaching for the nearest beer while trying to think of something clever or suggestive to say. He gave up and went with the first thing that came to mind, lifting the bottle to his lips. "Must be the company." He flicked a look at Duo as he drank, hoping for a reaction.

Score! Duo's eyes widened a fraction, the slightest hint of surprise, trying to cover it with a distraction. "I think that's my beer you're drinking, buddy." He reached out for the bottle in Heero's hand and took a sip, returning it to rest against his own knee.

Feeling a little bold at his tiny success, Heero acted without thought. His hand reached out, covering Duo's, and brought the bottle to his mouth again. The strange angle caused a bit of liquid to run down his face and the neck of the bottle. Staring straight at Duo to ensure he had the man's attention, he drew both their hands across his face to wipe away the moisture. That got a good enough reaction from his audience, a small intake of breath and another widening of eyes.

Encouraged by the initial results, Heero forged ahead, making his most daring move yet. He focused on the bead of liquid dribbling down the neck of the bottle and stuck his tongue out to lap at it, purposely brushing against their joined fingers. That got an even better reaction, a barely audible gasp and nervous laugh.

Heero decided this flirting stuff was incredibly easy once you committed yourself to it. The fingers in his hair flexed against his scalp, pulling just enough to make him tilt his head slightly. He met questioning eyes.

The need to answer those eyes was negated when a chorus of cheers and whooping filled the air around them. It seemed the one missing piece of the evening's puzzle had been filled. Duo turned back from the scene behind them and gave Heero's hair another gentle ruffle, smiling.

"I gotta go now. Hope you enjoy the show." And with those cryptic words, Duo headed for the group of young men who were huddled around a battered portable stereo.

Heero watched the group exchange a few words and hand signals and then, all but one of them had lined up in two rows in a flat patch of sand, spacing themselves evenly and taking a similar stance. He had but a moment to wonder what they were doing, when the stereo erupted and his heart lodged permanently in his throat.

/Step inside, walk this way.

You and me, babe. Hey, hey/

What had to be one of the most overtly sexual rock songs ever began blaring from the speakers and Heero found himself frozen in place, heartbeat thumping in synch with the heavy beat. He was rudely shaken from his stupor by the force of Hilde's body colliding with him on the left and Clara's on the right.

Both women squealed in delight and exchanged words across him as if he didn't even exist. Their words filtered slowly through his consciousness, as if he were translating them from a language long abandoned.

"Oh my God, I've heard about this but I've never seen it!"

"Damn, I remember when they were practicing for the show! They used to do it at my house. It's so hot! They're so frickin' hot! I can't believe they still remember it."

"Hoooo baby! Shake those hips!"

"Oh God, Hilde, this is… Aaahhhh! It's so great!"

Heero's eyes were riveted to the scene before him. Duo and his friends, good looking, athletic and apparently very talented friends, were performing an organized dance that incorporated tumbling, dancing, pelvic thrusts, gyrating bodies, waving arms and flying hair. The sight before him was intoxicating. It was breathtaking. It was… It was damn near obscene!

Heero could hear the hooting and cat calls from around him; the men and women in the audience both calling out to encourage the dancers individually. He could barely spare the thought that it was odd that the men were so into this. And yet all he could do was follow one set of hips, one swaying braid, one manic face. Some small part of his mind told him the audience's reaction was no more than you'd find at any concert – a phenomenon similar to mass hysteria. Shared excitement, shared remembrance.

Still following the movements of his heart's desire, he spared enough brain power to that last thought. Hilde and Clara's recent commentary came into sharp focus in his mind. They'd done this before. They'd performed this very same dance in their senior year in high school, for the variety show.

/Do you take sugar?

One lump or two/

Someone's girlfriend, a cheerleader, had helped with the tumbling and acrobatics. Duo and someone else had choreographed much of the dance moves. Mike, Jax and a few of the others he didn't know as well had provided the muscle for the jumps and flips being performed and given the boys credibility with the jocks at the school. That first performance, by a group of eight seniors, had been single-handedly credited with tripling ticket sales for the second night of the variety show.

He tore his eyes away from the gyrating form that made up his universe at the realization that he'd been asked a question. He looked between Hilde and Clara, answering their inquiring gaze with a raised eyebrow.

"Duo, Nick or Jax?" Clara reiterated.

"Or Pax?" Hilde added vehemently, clearly Clara had omitted him.

Heero shook his head, not sure what he was supposed to be answering, but his eyes flicked up to Duo once again.

"I think he's speechless!"

"I think his vote goes to Duo! But for me, it's a tie between him and your brother. My boyfriend doesn't even come in a close third!"

"Screw my brother! I'm not sure who's hotter Duo or Nick!"

/Pour some sugar on me!

In the name of love/

He heard them snicker and spared them a glance. They were leering at him. Deciding it would be best to remove himself from between them, he scooted back, giving them a wide berth and ensuring that they would no longer need to communicate by leaning across him. He hoped it would be enough to exclude him from any future debates of that nature. The show was definitely causing his body to react, something he didn't really feel like broadcasting at the moment. He drew both knees up in front of him and clasped his arms around them.

It was almost over – he knew the song well enough to know that. All he needed to do was survive a few more seconds and then attempt to slink away quietly. But it wasn't in the cards.

His typically quiet and reserved nature had likely saved him a load of embarrassment. No one would think twice about the fact that he hadn't moved from his place on the ground. With the end of the song, the others swarmed around the dancers, congratulating them, thanking them and gushing over their performance. He sat and attempted to will away the physical evidence of his reaction.

That dance number had been the icing on the proverbial cake of that evening. He'd experienced more ups and downs than a rollercoaster ride. He'd learned that the only guy who'd really caught his interest in years might be disposed to return that interest. He'd deliberately flirted with him and then openly ogled him in front of complete strangers. Granted, he hadn't been the only one ogling Duo, but still, it was very out of character for him.

Heero visually sought Duo out from his place on the sand and almost instantly regretted it. Duo was surrounded by a small group of friends, but Heero could clearly see his face, flushed from exertion, the sweaty shirt clinging to his lean torso, a sheen of moisture on his arms and neck.

He swallowed hard, trying to clear the image from his mind. It wasn't helping his situation any and he really needed to be able to stand soon. Fortunately, Lucy appeared a minute later to distract him, badly repressing her rather obvious amusement. Whether it was at him or the rowdy scene around them, he wasn't sure. She commented on the unexpectedness of the show, asking him if he'd known about it beforehand and chuckled goodheartedly at his shaky answer of 'I had no idea'.

She accomplished what he had not been able to on his own. With his body calm and back under control, he soon found himself standing and walking back toward the house with her. He had volunteered to help her clean up without giving it much thought, but in truth he didn't mind. It would help him keep his mind off of other things. Little by little, as the crowd thinned and people left with their coolers and unconsumed beers, Heero managed to forget the turmoil from before. He was just getting ready to make his way home when he found himself face to face with Duo again.

"Hey Heero, you wanna stick around for a bit? The guys were gonna come up to the apartment to hang for a while, do a little catching up. I'm sure they wouldn't mind you joining us." Duo flicked a hand over in the direction of his two friends.

Heero noticed the near panicked look on Jax's face before he'd managed to cover it. They were hanging back a little from where Duo was, ostensibly checking Pax's bandaged hand for any sign that he might have started it bleeding again. Heero had a pretty good idea what they'd be catching up on and figured it'd be best to decline. When Duo tried to insist, he had to come up with a lie to get out of it without hurting his feelings.

"I really would love to, but I promised to call Trowa early tomorrow morning. We have some things we need to go over for that job he's finishing up. Maybe next time?"

Duo started to frown but then shrugged. "Yeah, next time, I guess. Well, goodnight then Heero. Walk safely!" He was back to grinning widely.

"Night, Duo," he called and began to move away. Heero waved then nodded at Duo's two friends, "Night, guys."

"Later Heero. We'll see you around! Maybe later tomorrow, we can do lunch or something, eh?" He wasn't sure which one of them answered because he'd already turned away. He waved over his shoulder and kept walking.

Duo called back to him again just as he was reaching the edge of the property. "I'll call you tomorrow Heero, OK?"

"Alright", he shot back, waving over his shoulder one last time.

Heero listened as long as he could to the sounds of them laughing and talking. Duo was trying to convince them to crash at his place for the night, but they weren't agreeing. He sounded slightly affronted by their rejection and tried to insist. They evaded diplomatically. He figured Duo would find out soon enough why they might want a little privacy. Heero didn't think he'd have a problem with it then.

I envy them, he thought to himself, I'd give anything right now to do more than just 'crash' with him. If what he'd seen tonight was any indication, Duo was most likely interested. But he wanted – needed – to be sure. Heero liked Duo too much to chance ruining their friendship. He had to figure out a way to make it happen.

That single thought followed him all the way home, running circles in his head. Maybe he would call Trowa tomorrow, after all; he'd always gotten solid advice from his friend. And right now, he needed someone with a clear head.

TBC


	10. Reactions

**10Reactions (posted LJ 2/28/06)**

Duo POV

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

It's one of the basic laws of nature. It is physics, science and logic in its truest forms.

Throw something up and it will fall back down.

Make a fool of yourself and someone will notice.

I have spent the day being reminded of an old song Howard loves to sing. His favorite part goes like this: 'You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask off the ole' Lone Ranger and you don't mess around with Jim.' He used to sing it to me when I was younger, back when we lived together. Every time I complained about some inevitability, every time I did something stupid and it came back to bite me in the ass, Howard would sing about Leroy Brown.

For a long time, I really hated that song.

He never, ever, told me 'I told you so', but if he thought I should have seen something coming, I was guaranteed at least one refrain.

The funny thing is that as I got older, moved out on my own and became the responsible young man that I am – usually – I found myself doing the same thing. So much so that my staff knows the song well enough to sing the whole thing – even without prompting or jumbling the lyrics. Two years ago, Richard went as far as to buy me a CD of 70's music for my birthday solely because it was one of the tracks.

So here's the kicker. I think I spent the better portion of last night spitting into the proverbial wind. Evidenced, apparently, by the enormous hocker I have on my face today.

Why does Duo Maxwell have massive amounts of spittle on his face this fine Sunday afternoon? Because apparently Duo Maxwell is incapable of keeping his libido in check.

If I were a lesser man, I might blame it on the drink. If I were a lesser man, I might blame it on the influence other people's comments had on me. Hell, given enough time, I might even be able to come up with an endless number of reasons for my actions, but it all boils down to one thing: I'm horny and I have the hots for a guy who probably wouldn't see me that way in a million years.

So, if I may be so bold in the solitude of my own apartment, I think I can honestly say: Heero Yuy is the reason I have so 'spitted unto the wind'.

It all started yesterday round about eight-thirty in the morning. There I was, putting the finishing touches on the set up in my booth when sex-appeal-incarnate made his first appearance. If I'd been surprised the previous two days when he showed up to help us assemble the booths, it was nothing compared to my surprise at that moment. He'd left the festival grounds at two in the morning, long after some of the hired help had; I certainly hadn't expected to see him again that early. And, as if his being there so early wasn't enough, he'd brought me breakfast.

He smiled that cute, almost boyish, shy smile of his while offering me a home-made breakfast sandwich and a travel mug full of coffee. He said he figured I wouldn't have had time to make myself anything since he knew I was supposed to be out there again early to deal with the arriving vendors and to add a few finishing touches to my booth in particular. He also said he suspected I hadn't been eating regularly lately. He was right, of course, but I was more than a little shocked that he'd noticed. And when I sputtered and stumbled over my appreciation, he waved it away as if it was nothing, saying that it was his habit to wake early no matter what, and that making breakfast for two instead of one required no added effort. So I sat, at his insistence, and woofed my food down while he perused the final layout of the booth.

I'm very glad that he made me take the time to sit and eat, because if he hadn't, I probably would have missed the look on his face when he discovered my one and only finishing touch: the sponsorship poster. It wasn't anything all that extravagant, but the pleased and surprised look on his face was worth the extra hours of sleep I'd sacrificed to make it.

It was an eleven-by-seventeen glossy poster that read: This booth was made possible by the support and sponsorship of Heero Yuy, Renovations Consultant, Dorlain-Dermail, Inc. The poster had a border made to look like an unfinished, wooden picture frame. The letters of Heero's name were made up by pictures of paint brushes, screw drivers, levels, a 'wheel', sketch pads, pencils, drafting triangles and a folding meter. I'd lifted the firm's logo from their corporate webpage.

He shot me a wide-eyed, slightly embarrassed look and said 'You really didn't have to do that.' To which I answered by saluting him with the remains of my breakfast and pointing out it was the least I could do and that he more than deserved it. That shy smile came back into play and he turned to look at the poster again, but not before I noticed the slight rise of color on his cheeks.

God, but he was the stuff my dreams were made of.

OK, so blushing is not like the biggest turn-on on the planet, but it wasn't the blush that got to me. It was just one of those perfect moments, when he is so thoroughly caught by surprise, it leaves his emotions unguarded, raw. It's as if he doesn't expect anyone to do anything nice for him. Here's this guy, young, smart, successful, witty, interesting, kind, serious – and let's not forget gorgeous – and there's not a conceited, snotty, self-righteous, expectant bone in his body. Talk to him about business, sports, politics, music, anything, and he's this confident, well-rounded human being. Put him where the spotlight is on him and he becomes this almost bashful little boy you just want to… hug to death. It's like he doesn't realize how awesome he is. He's so damned nice! Knowing that he was uncomfortable, I left him alone for a bit, busying myself with getting my papers, pens and paints ready for the eventual arrival of festival goers.

Officially, the gates opened at nine, but there were always a few early visitors, since some of the staff scheduled to work at the booths usually brought their kids with them. Maxine's youngest, Clarisse, was my first customer, arriving a little before nine and asking for a chain of daisies to be painted across her forehead. Heero watched with rapt attention as the design came to life, and then volunteered to take a picture of us together, when she mentioned that she liked my pirate costume.

The morning continued in that same vein, Heero taking on the job of collecting payment and helping the people make their selections before stepping up for the service of their choice. I got a slight reprieve when Candy – one of my summer staff – showed up at eleven to take over the bulk of the face–painting business and I was left mostly to do caricatures. I had a great laugh the first time the CD with my background music queued up the track with the poem I'd written. I think Heero had forgotten all about it in the weeks that had passed since our meeting on the stairs. Better than that, though, was the look on his face - which practically had me rolling on the floor - when Candy commented on how much my poetic skills had improved when compared to lasts year's limerick.

Richard showed up at one to relieve me and I took Heero off to get some lunch. We almost came to blows when he tried to pay for his own lunch, but in the end I shamed him into submission by pointing out he'd essentially bought me breakfast. Alright, there was that, and the threat that I would draw a caricature of him and post it next to the sponsorship poster, which would mysteriously end up center-stage at the front of the booth. Never underestimate the power of embarrassment.

When my lunch break was over, we headed back to the booth. On the way, I tried to convince Heero that he shouldn't stay there all afternoon, that he should really take some time to explore the whole fair. It wasn't all that big and wouldn't likely take too much time, but I was hoping he'd find something to distract him, if only for a little while. I felt really bad about the fact that he'd already spent so much of his free time working to make this event happen and he wouldn't be enjoying any of it. I shouldn't have worried. Not half an hour after settling back into the swing of things, Hilde showed up.

In typical Hilde fashion, she breezed in and started shaking things up. It seems she'd been working since opening at one of the kiddie game booths – balls in buckets, hoops on bottles, one of those things – and was ready for a little fun. Since I was scheduled to stay at the booth until five, I convinced her to drag Heero off instead. I didn't see either of them again for two hours.

When they did get back, they came bearing gifts. We shared a bag of popcorn, a funnel cake and some cotton candy in between customers. Eventually Hilde took over face-painting duties, and even Heero got in on the act when one of the kids requested something a little beyond her artistic abilities. Stars, hearts, moons, and flowers she could handle; animal features, she could not. The one animal she did attempt was so bad Heero offered to redo it for free if the kid went and washed it off first. Candy and Richard reappeared a little before five and I handed over the reins to them, promising to be back in time to help them pack up at eight. It was then, as we were getting ready to leave the booth, that my two oldest and closest friends showed up, Horatio Samuel Jackson and Antonio Enrique Pas. A.K.A. Jax and Pax.

Hilde took control of the conversation right away, making sure to introduce Heero to the guys and vice versa, and making sure to bring up our high school nicknames – Jax, Max and Pax – and how clever we'd thought we were being by altering our last names so that they'd rhyme, insisting that everyone call us by those names. While the guys and I caught up a little on what was happening with each other, Hilde took Heero aside – under the pretense of helping her with a customer – and attempted to fill him in on every story she'd heard about us and the stupid things we'd done. When we realized what she was doing – and since she was venturing into embarrassing territory – we abducted him, leaving the booth for a nearby table and steering the conversation to plans for the evening. It wasn't often that the guys came to visit, since Jax was still going to school for his MBA and Pax was working full time, so we always made it a point to go out together when they were in town.

We were sitting at adjacent tables; Heero between Hilde and I at one, Jax and Pax across from us, negotiating the time and destination of the outing. I could tell by the occasional looks he was giving me, discreet as they were, that Heero was worrying over whether he would be welcome or not. I bumped shoulders with him to get his attention and gave him a quick nod, hoping he'd understand that I expected him to join us. The slight nod he gave me in return said that he would.

I was pleased with myself. Despite having spent the better portion of the last three days with him, I still wanted more. I also wanted him to get to know my best friends. I knew they'd get along great, just as he had with Hilde – once I'd clued him in on the nature of our friendship. It occurred to me that by the end of the night, he'd probably hear plenty more embarrassing stories about our younger days, but I was still glad that I'd managed to steer Hilde away from her previous topic of conversation. The title of Max hadn't stuck for me, and Jax and Pax weren't such bad nicknames to end up with – even their families called them by those names on occasion – but some of the other shit we'd thought up was pretty lame.

If I was happy that we'd escaped the shame of our other self-appointed high school title, it didn't last long. Lucy showed up not fifteen minutes later, exclaiming from three tables away what a joy it was to finally see the Three Musketeers together again.

The look Heero gave me while the others exchanged greetings was nearly enough to make me spontaneously combust. It was a bastard mix of amusement and disbelief; well, that, and something looking suspiciously like a very facetious 'Oh, how cute'. I was again saved from death-by-blush by Lucy's reminder about the bonfire on the beach that night, mentioning that most of the old regulars had already confirmed their intent to go. In the hustle and the rush of getting ready for the festival, it seems both Hilde and I had completely forgotten. Jax and Pax eagerly accepted the invitation, looking forward to meeting up with the old gang. I turned back to Heero to make sure he understood that he was welcome to join us and the shy little boy was back.

I quickly leaned into him and told him that in no uncertain terms should he consider skipping. He looked unsure and shot a quick glance at the others. Jax seemed to catch on right away and launched into a major sales pitch to convince Heero. While he was doing that, Pax shot me a look – and without him having to say it – I knew what he thought. Seeing us together, he'd assumed certain things about our relationship. I returned his look with an expression that begged him to wait for an explanation. He accepted it, but I knew he would be watching us even closer than before.

We spent the next couple of hours just hanging out, shooting the breeze. Various people stopped by the table and talk ran the gamut from high school to politics. When the time came for me to head back to pack up the booth, everyone joined me and we were done in no time flat. We split up with the understanding that we'd be meeting up again within the hour for a night of partying.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine things would turn out as they did.

Drinking does not so much lower your inhibitions as it does make you stupid and reckless. It makes you ignore that part of your brain that controls decorum, thereby making you more susceptible to the voice of your inner idiot. It makes you laugh in the face of common sense and say 'Hey, screw you! We're all friends here and we're just having fun.' The evil, smirking voice of your evil, inebriated self that tells you there's absolutely no logical reason to hide what you're feeling or continue to bury your deepest desires. Right. Like I said, freakin' stupid!

And it's that same vile voice that takes over your input control centers. The voice is the one that says 'Hey look! He's been eyeing you. He must be interested.' The same demonic voice that, with unmitigated gall, latches on to supposed logic and fervently zeroes in on minor details to the exclusion of all else. It makes note only of the facts that work to its advantage. Like? Like: He's been sitting next to you all night. He's staying by your side pretty much wherever you go. He's smiling that sweet, shy smile at you and only you.

Yes, this is the same voice that completely ignores all the major details that would truly – logically – explain the minor ones. Like? Oh, like that he wouldn't be there if you hadn't insisted. Like that he's already admitted to you that he considers you a friend. Like that he often feels distinctly uncomfortable in social situations and appreciates your helping him feel like he fits in.

And this is where the reckless part comes in – because it is reckless and inconsiderate to act out with those ideas in mind. To touch more than you usually do. To take advantage of that quiet, accommodating nature of his. I mean I'd done it before, that day we went to watch the soccer game. Despite the fact that Alex had commented on my behavior, going as far as to speculate that Heero was my 'new squeeze', Heero had said nothing about it. He'd taken my slightly possessive behavior in stride and not backed off. And now, a few weeks later, when I finally get to see more of that relaxed little boy look of his, I practically maul him.

But when I think about it, and I'll admit some things are a little fuzzy about the later parts of last night, I have to wonder if it was really all in my mind. Yeah, OK, so maybe I was ignoring some of the more rational, logical reasons for his hanging out with me almost all the time. But it's not like I could have imagined some of the things he said or did. I mean, yeah, I have a good imagination and may have fantasized a time or two about how things would be between us. But the Heero that did and said the things I remember him doing and saying is not the Heero from my imagination.

He licked me, damn it! He fucking well licked my finger while I was holding that damned bottle. And that 'I like to watch' comment - accompanied by the look I got - was not in my imaginary Heero's repertoire. Well, maybe the look is in the repertoire, but definitely not the comment. So see, here's where reckless and stupid come back into play, because I wanted it to be that way. I liked that he was watching me, touching me, playing along with me. And I kept leading him farther and farther down the path. And it'd all be fine and dandy if it hadn't had the undesirable effect of making him push me away.

Yeah right, he needed to talk to Trowa. That was a lame-ass excuse if ever I'd heard one, but I guess he was just grasping at some reason not to hang around me any longer. I guess he forgot that he'd told me he'd talked to his roommate that morning before coming to the festival and that everything was going great. According to yesterday morning's account, Trowa was finishing up some small job he'd picked up right after Heero moved into the Glades and was hoping to be on site by the end of the month. We'd talked quite a bit about it that afternoon, between face paintings and caricatures. It was also when he'd told me that Trowa had been seeing someone since their last year in college and the way he had ever so delicately avoided any reference to the significant other's gender let me convince myself the guy must be gay.

So yeah, what are the chances that Heero was straight if he was living with a gay guy? Slim to none, in my book. See? Reckless. I wanted it to be that way so badly, I just let myself believe it – let myself entertain my chances all afternoon. And when I finally got a little alcohol into my system, I blew it.

I mean, that had to be the reason for the blow-off, right? Pax and Jax noticed how out of control I was last night. They've been needling me about it all morning. They'd probably still be at it if they hadn't promised to take Anita out somewhere this afternoon. Shit, even Nick made a comment about it last night. What was it that the asshole had said? Something about 'my own personal eye candy with a formidable ass'.

So we're back to actions and reactions. Action: Duo acts like a slut, blatantly coming on to the object of his affections and the hottest guy to stay at the resort in ages. Reaction: Truckloads of grief from my oldest friends and very possibly squelching any chance of keeping a new one.

I've really got to get my head out of my asshole, finish my laundry and figure out a way to straighten things out with Heero. And all before five o'clock when I have to go set up for tonight's dinner.

Damn, I wonder if Heero's gonna skip out on it? He was supposed to sit with The Girls again tonight. He promised to the other day and he wouldn't just not show up without saying so, but I doubt he really wants to talk to me right now. Not after my performance last night. I guess I'll just have to take my chances, and if any of The Girls ask, I'll just tell them he was tired or something.

Oh well, only time will tell. I think I've turned this sucker around in my head long enough to realize that the next move is up to him. If he avoids me from now on, then I'll take that as my cue that I screwed things up beyond repair. If he doesn't, then I graciously take whatever he's got to offer, consider myself lucky that he is as nice a guy as he is, and let him set the tone for our friendship.

Right now I need to get off this stupid couch and get my shit done.

TBC


	11. Breaking

Splendor Restored 11/13+E

Author: BadMomma

Warnings: AU (my first), limey

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Rating: R for language and some sexual situations

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Archived: GWA, Under the Bridge

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.

Notes: See Chapter 1. Heero POV

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

11Breaking

Ah, the Employee Break Room – what a godsend. I can wait in there for Marquise to call me. Better that than to have to sit in his anteroom and deflect coy looks from his secretary. The place should be empty at this time of morning. Maybe I can get a little work done while I wait.

I breathe a sigh of relief at finding the room as vacant as I anticipated, thankfully making my wait more comfortable. Like most other places in this old resort the room has a homey, welcoming feel to it, and I have to wonder again at that since it hasn't been someone's home for so many years. Yet it still looks more like someone lives here than it does a break room; so unlike the one at my office. The couch along the wall seems a little worn but extremely comfortable, the fabric slightly faded, the back and side cushion broken in but not beaten down, and three matching throw pillows nestled invitingly among them.

The kitchen counter in the corner opposite the door is clean despite being cluttered, with a wood block for knives, a jar with cooking spoons, an eclectic collection of mugs and cheerful dishtowels on nearby hooks. Tucked neatly in one corner sits the coffee maker, which, void of any brewed coffee, has been left clean and orderly, the empty basket left to dry on a towel beside it.

There's a set of canisters on the counter, which, upon inspection, reveal ground coffee, tea bags, sugar, powdered creamer and cookies. There are several frames hanging on the walls, typical of what you find in those bed-and-bath stores, with quaint vignettes proclaiming the virtues of good housekeeping and good upbringing.

There are a couple of round tables in the center of the room with matching chairs. Each one has a napkin caddy with matching salt and pepper shakers at its center, placed neatly on cloths that match the dish towels on the counter.

I put my bag down in the corner by the couch and take another look around. Definitely homey. So much so that I have to resist the urge to throw myself across the sofa and take a nap like I used to when I was in college. I shake my head at my urges. I think being here, spending so much time with Duo, is making me nostalgic.

I decide to make use of the small bathroom to give myself a once over and maybe splash some water on my face. If I'd known Marquise would be running late this morning I would have taken a little more time getting ready. I'd woken up almost an hour later than usual and had rushed through my morning routine. All along, I couldn't help but curse my lateness, but never once cursed the reason why: Duo.

The bathroom gives off that lived-in vibe as much as the rest of this place. It even has a shower stall in the corner, the curtain a quaint fish motif. While staring at my reflection in the mirror, re-knotting the tie I'd haphazardly thrown on this morning, I hear the door to the break room open, followed by the shuffling of feet.

"Come on, come on! Told you nobody'd be here."

"Damn it, let go of me!"

Duo?

"Stop your whining and get in here, mister." I hear the door close and the lock engage.

"Christ, Hilde! That's a little unnecessary!"

Ah, of course.

"I don't want any interruptions. Now spill!"

"Spill? I told you already, there's nothing to spill, alright?"

"Bullshit Duo! I know you went out with him last night. So what happened?"

"Jeez Hil, don't make such a big deal outta nothing. We didn't /go out/. We just hung out for a while after dinner."

I hear a chair being pulled at one of the small tables.

"Uh-huh. Right." I hear another chair being pulled back. "That's why Carl says you guys booked from the dining room about five minutes after The Girls finished dinner. And nobody – and I mean /nobody/ – saw either of you after that! And anyway, Lucy says you didn't get back to your room 'til almost three in the morning. By my calculation, that leaves about six hours unaccounted for. Don't frickin' tell me there's nothing to spill!"

Six hours! Damn, I hadn't realized we were together that long.

"I don't need this shit, Hil. Don't need you trying to make something outta nothing. No - thing - hap - pened. OK? And why would Lucy be up at that hour, anyway? What the hell? Do you have people keeping tabs on what I do in my free time?"

"Don't worry about why Lucy was up at that hour; just give me the details!"

"Ain't no details to /give, Hil! We just walked around for a while; out to the tennis courts, then down to the boardwalk. Then we just sat there and talked. That's all."

She laughs heartily and says something in response but it is too low for me to hear. It is followed immediately by the sound of Duo, presumably, pushing his chair back in a huff.

"You are one sick, perverted, little…"

"Bitch?" She offers and laughs heartily.

"Your words, babe, not mine."

There is silence. I can only imagine that they're staring each other down. I wish I had the courage to crack open the door and see what's going on in there. The silence lasts so long that I'm wondering if maybe they've gone. My hand is reaching for the door knob, when it's brought home to me that they haven't left.

"So?"

"So, what?"

"So did you?"

"Hilde!"

"Don't 'Hilde' me. You're hot for him! You said so yourself. So did you?"

Oh! My! God! He told her he's hot for me?

"I already told you, nothing happened, Hil."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Absolutely nothing?"

"Hil cut the crap."

"No kissy-kissy? No touchy-touchy?"

"Damn it Hil, I said stop! You know what, I'm sorry I said anything to you, 'cause you don't know when to quit. I'm going to go work now. Just do me a favor and stay the hell outta my way for a while, OK? And when you're off your little 'let's fuck with Duo's head' routine, give it another day and then get back in touch."

"Hey? Hey!"

There's the scuffle of people moving about and I hear the lock click back on the door.

"Hey, wait a minute! I was just teasing. Man, Duo, you've got it bad for this guy."

"Fuck off, Hil; I told you to leave me alone. Now get the hell out of my way, because if I have to frickin' toss you on the couch to get out of here, I will."

"Duo! I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you… Look I'm sorry, OK! I didn't realize this was bugging you so much. You must reeeally like this guy!"

"Hilde!"

"No, Duo, I'm serious. No more teasing, I swear. You really do like this guy? A lot, huh?"

"Yeah, OK, I do."

"Aww, that's great little brother! But why are you so bummed? He's a damned fine specimen, if I do say so myself, and you know I've got good taste in men."

"Yeah well… then guess I should wish you the best of luck, because obviously no amount of wishing's gonna help me. Catch my drift?"

"Uhn-uh, no way bro. I saw what I saw. And I've most definitely seen him checking you out on several occasions. Maybe he's shy?"

"Shy my ass, OK! He's not interested."

"Did he say that?"

"No he didn't say that!"

"Then how do you know?"

"I just do, so drop it."

"No, I will not drop it! You like this guy. What makes you so damned sure he doesn't like you right back?"

"You forget, I've taken that walk before – with quite a few dates in the many years I've been here."

"Yeah, and?"

"And… they're either the romantic type and eventually succumb to the mood, or just plain horny and the minute they realize nobody's gonna see, they're all hands. There was no touching, Hil, and /definitely/ no kissing last night. Trust me. Not interested. Case closed."

"Oh come on, just give him a little more time."

"He had six hours! You counted yourself, remember? How much more time do you want? Look, guys don't beat around the bush like that, like girls do. A guy wants something, he goes for it. Heero didn't go. End of story."

"Oh? And did /you/ go for it?"

"No, after Saturday night I decided to let him set the pace. And he didn't seem very receptive. I kept… giving him openings and… and he didn't… react."

"Well maybe he didn't realize that they were /openings/."

"It's hopeless, Hil. He's not interested. It happens, you know, implications or not, he might just be straight."

"Aw come on, little bro, don't give up yet. What've you got to lose?"

There is a short pause before he answers. "My heart, Hil, and possibly my sanity too. Mr. Z said he'd be here for the duration of the project. That's at least another six or seven months. I don't think I can do this! I just need to figure out a way to back off on my involvement in this thing because I can't keep hanging around him so much and not… not…"

There are a few seconds of silence before she asks, "Not what Duo?"

"Not… want him so much, damn it." I hear movement and then the door opens. Before it shuts again he says one more thing to her. "I'm not really mad at'cha, you know? Just, let's not talk about it for a little while, OK? You can come by later if you want, when you're done with work."

"I'll be there, promise."

Holy shit! I find myself sitting on the lid of the toilet without realizing I'd sat down. My body feels like it weighs a ton and I can't seem to get my thoughts organized. I think I'm in shock. Not at the thought that he might like me - that much I'd pretty well figured out already - but that… damn! He must really like me. And damned if he mustn't have been thinking and wanting the same things I'd been the night before.

We'd spent six, awesome, torturous hours just walking, sitting, talking and getting to know each other better when we could have been – holy shit! I remember deciding to sit on my hands a little while after reaching the boardwalk because I'd been afraid of making a grab at him. Damn, and he wouldn't have minded if I'd made a pass at him one of the millions of times he leaned in to bump shoulders with me or pushed sand off the edge of the planks by my thigh or… God above! I could have done what I'd wanted most desperately when he turned to face me, sitting with both feet up on the planks next to me, knees bent and spread wide, while I watched his hands run up and down his calves. I could have fit myself into the 'v' made by his legs, pushed him onto his back and devoured him from the top down. Eagerly. And he would have responded! Shitshitshit! Talk about body language!

I am so lost in my mental gutters that I practically fall from my perch when I hear the door to the break room open and close again. Hilde must have just left. I straighten myself up and leave my little hidey hole. My cell phone rings while I'm still going over the 'what ifs' and I let loose a prayer of thanks to unknown deities that it hadn't gone off any earlier and given me away.

Seeing that the call is from Dori and not Marquise, I ignore it. I need a few minutes to compose myself, and probably a bit longer than that to figure out just how I am going to handle this. I want him – badly – but I have to be careful going about getting what I want. He is probably not too thrilled with me right now and will likely try to avoid me for a while. Their words come back to me in a rush and I take a deep, steadying breath so I don't buckle under the implication.

/What've you got to lose/

/My heart, Hil/

Damn! If he's afraid of losing his heart, then he might as well, considering I've already lost mine. Damn, shit and double-damn. I'll probably only be here another six or seven months. What happens after that? I have a good job, a home and a roommate to return to. I have friends he's never met. People that depend on me. I have a life and, unlike his, it isn't here. Could I give it up to stay with him? Would he give his up to come with me? What the hell am I thinking? We barely know each other and I'm worrying about who'd be uprooting? What if that isn't what he wants. How am I so sure it's what I want?

One thing's for sure, I want him: Yes. Bodily, lustfully, I want and want badly, but I care about him too. I like him and not just for his looks. I don't want to hurt him, my physical needs and desires are not more important than his feelings. I really need to give this some thought.

I punch up the number to Marquise's office and tell the secretary that I need to reschedule my meeting with him. It will likely take me the rest of the day to resolve this.

I slip like a thief from the break room and make my way back to my rooms, avoiding any place he is likely to be.

I need time. I need to think clearly.

Damn, but I need to kiss him!

TBC


	12. Painting

Splendor Restored 12/13+E Author: BadMomma Warnings: AU (my first), limey Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs Rating: R for language and some sexual situations Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.  
Archived: GWA, Under the Bridge Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.  
Notes: See Chapter 1. Heero's POV. Multiple sightings of the f-bomb.

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

12Painting

I sit on the porch of Anita's bungalow, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun. My cap is pulled low on my forehead, shading eyes that are staring intently at the ground between my feet. I'd given a lot of thought to what I would do, what I would say to Duo when we saw each other again, but I now had more things to figure out. Anita had made sure of that.

I was surprised that she seemed so amused by my unannounced appearance at her door earlier. After explaining very briefly, and even more vaguely, my reason for being there she'd invited me in to wait for him. In typical grandmotherly fashion, she'd immediately plied me full of tea and rolls, after which we spent several minutes talking about the progress I'd made with my work for the resort. 

She followed that up by leading me around her small home to look at the many photographs that provided glimpses of the changes in the resort over the years. There were even pictures there from when she'd first begun visiting as a teenager in the mid-forties with her family. Afterwards, she'd pulled out several photo albums and showed me even more pictures that spanned the years. 

I saw pictures of her as a young bride, then a young mother with her small children at her feet; then as a proud matron surrounded again by her own, older, children and their friends. Later pictures showed her fully grown children with their fiancés and husbands, though there were fewer of these than there were of the previous.

Then came the pictures that depicted her life after taking residence at the resort. I was surprised at how long she'd lived on the property, having arrived shortly after the death of her husband in the early eighties. It was then that I saw pictures of her surrounded again by small children – her grandchildren this time – who had obviously spent many summer weekends with her. While looking over the newer pictures, I saw something that uncharacteristically had me asking her questions.

Mixed in with the pictures of her grandchildren, was one where she stood with a small group of high school aged boys. The faces of some of those teenagers had surprised me. They were all dressed in the resort's white uniform shirts and khaki shorts; easily identifiable among them were Mike, Gibson, Jax, Pax and Duo. Anita was being hugged on either side by Pax and Duo, with the other boys standing loosely around them. When I asked her about it, she'd laughed happily, explaining that Duo had always been as much of a grandson to her as Pax was – even if he wasn't of her own flesh and blood.

I spent a long time flipping back through the pages of the album, picking out their faces – his face – in a backward slide of time. Picture after picture, they appeared together, getting younger and smaller until I'd passed the point of Duo's arrival in their town.

I continued to look over the pictures as she left to put away the tea tray, flipping back and forth between the pages, but concentrating on the ones that represented the boys' teenage years. My thoughts wandered to the revelations I'd overheard in Duo's apartment not that long ago and looked for any indication that their bond was more than what Pax had alluded to. There were many pictures with only Duo and Pax, making me wonder if those had been taken while Jax had traveled with his family. Time and again, the pictures showed that the two were in closer physical contact with each other than they were with the others, even in the ones where the three best friends were the main attraction. Idly, I ran a finger over one of those pictures, wondering at it. Her words broke the spell I was under as she sat next to me on the couch.

Touching the same picture she said, 'They were always the closest, those two. They had a special bond that even Horatio couldn't touch. I thought at the time it was because they were always being left behind. His family is very wealthy, you know, and they traveled a lot when the boys were younger.' When I nodded, she continued. 'I was so sure that his constantly being away, whenever they were not in school, was the reason my Tonio and Duo were so close.' She'd had such a sad expression on her face when she'd said it I'd instantly felt the need to reassure her. 

Not knowing if she had any idea why the two had likely been so close, I said the most reassuring thing I could think of. 'I'm sure that had a lot to do with it, Anita. If Jax wasn't around as much, it's only logical he wouldn't be as close as them.'

She huffed at my answer and patted me on the hand, retrieving and closing the album. 'I may be old but I'm not stupid, child. When certain things don't add up, old Anita doesn't hold her questions. I've been watching boys grow up for decades and time doesn't change some things. I've known exactly - for several years now - why those two are so close. You don't need to lull me into the false hope of great-grandchildren where they're concerned.' 

She'd answered my shocked look with a wink.

After rising again to put away the photo albums, she made her way back to me but didn't take a seat. Making sure that she had my undivided attention, she gave me a few more things to think about.

'I also don't need to hear any cock and bull stories like the one you gave me at the door, child. I knew something was wrong when Duo decided he needed to come paint my porch today and not next Sunday like he promised. Your appearance just confirmed the why of it. It's damned inconvenient, too, since I have plans for the day. So here's what I think. We both know the only reason you're here is to see my grandson – and left to his own devices that boy'd think up a reason to turn away Prince Charming – so regardless of whether you boys paint my porch or not, I expect you to take some steps in a positive direction.'

I tried to interject my thoughts on the topic, but she summarily dismissed me with the wave of a hand.

'Quiet, child; I'm not done yet. The two of you have been dancing around each other for too long, if you ask me. It's clear to all of us that you like each other,'

That time I managed a few words. 'All of you? Who-' 

'Us old ladies, child - all of Duo's Girls. We figured it out around the third or fourth time we saw you two together. Peas in a pod, you are. You make a cute couple too, you know, and we've been talking about it for a while now. So here's the plan…' 

The plan she laid out – if you could even call it that – was simple enough. I stayed. She left. Duo and I worked it out. Not much of plan, once you got right down to it, but I would have plenty of time to mull it over. 

I still hadn't worked it all out when the sound of approaching footsteps made it a moot point.

"Heero? What are you doing here?" Duo stopped not ten feet in front of me, shock and a bit of uneasiness clearly written across his face.

"Waiting for you."

"Does Anita know you're out here?"

"Aa." I nodded, shooting a quick glance at the door behind me before dropping my gaze to the ground again. "She told me I should wait inside, but I didn't feel comfortable there after she left. I decided to wait for you out here."

"She left?" The strangled quality of his voice made me look up briefly. His unease was clearly mounting. Despite having hedged his way closer, he was still a good distance from the porch. "Where'd she go? I was supposed to…" He gestured nervously in the direction of the painting supplies at the corner of the porch, seeming to take half a step back every time I looked at him.

"Paint the porch, yes, she told me." I shot him another quick glance before dropping my eyes again, idly picking at the loose hem of my shorts. "She said you'd be by before lunch. She left us a pitcher of lemonade on the kitchen counter for when we get thirsty."

I considered standing and approaching him, but Duo's skittishness was making me nervous. I was also afraid that any move to approach him would be met with flight, so I kept my seat. I really wasn't any good at this kind of thing; Duo was probably much better suited to handle these kinds of situations. But I wanted for us to talk – at least a little bit – and as it stood, I would have to be the one to make it happen. Schooling my features and forcing my body to relax, I leaned back on my hands and tilted my head, regarding him calmly for a moment. I was hoping my body language conveyed openness and calm, the absence of any threat; but more so, I really hoped that he would relax enough to sit down for a while.

I didn't want to make Duo go on the defensive, but I felt the need to clear the air between us. I wanted to make sure he knew that I knew exactly what had happened. "She told me to tell you she was sorry she couldn't stick around. She'd already made plans before you left her that message yesterday about coming over today." 

Duo's eyes widened minutely at the revelation and his body tensed. I could almost see the gears working on churning out a viable response, one that would be vague enough without being an outright lie. "I… I had something…"

"It's alright; you don't need to justify your actions. It's your day off. I just…" I hesitated. I knew what I wanted to get across but was not sure how it would go over. After an instantaneous internal debate, I bulled ahead. "I wanted to see you again. I like our Wednesday morning talks." I tried a small smile on for size, hoping it would ease his tension.

Several emotions chased quickly across Duo's face and I was hard-pressed to catch them all. Hope, fear and resignation - those I'd caught easily enough. Remembering the conversation I'd overheard with Hilde without having to review it in my head, I could guess at a few of the others.

Duo stood with his mouth agape, unable to respond. "I -" 

"Sit down, Duo. Please?" I entreated as gently as I could, patting the porch beside me when he continued to just stare. "I need to tell you something. I had planned on telling you during our meeting this morning, but…" I shrugged, leaving the rest of it unspoken.

Hesitantly, Duo took a seat to my right, fidgeting nervously before finally clasping his hands around the edge of the porch and refusing to make eye contact. It was not as close as I would have liked and clearly he was still tense, his upper body leaning forward over his legs. At least it was a start.

I took a deep breath to fortify myself. "I, um, I really had a great time on Sunday. I wanted to thank you for that."

"Oh, sure." He nodded absently. "Yeah, those theme dinners are usually a lot fun, but you know you don't need me to invite you, right? You're a guest; we do them for you."

"Ah, yes well… The dinner was nice, but – but I wasn't talking about that." 

"No?" I barely registered the sideways glance he shot me.

"No. I was talking about after." It got me another absent nod in return.

Deciding that the conversation could take all day if we continued to hedge at things in this manner, I steeled myself for a direct attack. Turning slightly toward him, I tried to concentrate on the words I needed to say and not on the body before me.

"Duo, it's been really great spending time with you. I like our talks on Wednesdays; I like going with you to meet with the Girls; I like meeting up at the bookstore and having coffee; I – I like eating cheap sushi on your sofa, and the bonfire, and meeting your friends. I- I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

This time, Duo did look up and offered me a wan smile. "I'm glad Heero. Thanks for saying so. That's good to hear." His gaze slowly drifted away, looking out over the small garden.

That was definitely not the response I'd been hoping for. "I don't think you understand."

"No I do. I got'cha." Our gazes met and he smiled, but I could tell it was forced. "I really am glad you're enjoying your stay here. It means I'm doing my job." He shrugged a little and dropped his gaze.

I had to tramp down on my building frustration; it wasn't what I needed right now. Duo didn't know what I knew. He couldn't have known about the conversations I'd overheard take place in his bathroom or in the break room. He didn't know about the talk with Anita. I shored up my resolve, suddenly realizing that I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I wasn't really risking anything; I already knew how he felt. I'd heard the words come from his own lips; I'd heard the heartbreak. I needed to let Duo know how I felt too. If I didn't act now, I'd only be hurting him more.

"I don't think you do understand. Not at all." I laid my right hand over his left, where it still gripped the edge of the porch. "Duo, I really enjoy being with you. I haven't… felt like this, about anyone. Ever, I think." I could only shake my head at my inability to convey my own thoughts.

Duo's reaction was quick and not entirely unexpected. He tried to pull his hand back at the instant of contact, but all he managed to do was to allow me to slip my fingers under his slightly sweaty palm, actually giving me a better grip.

Our eyes met again and the look of confusion and uncertainty on Duo's face nearly broke my heart. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I didn't know what to say. At first I- I wasn't sure that you'd be interested, that you might feel the same. I never meant to hurt you, I was just… scared, I guess."

The confusion was still present, but the uncertainty had faded somewhat. "What– what made you change your mind?"

Inching a little closer, I strongly hoped this next part went well. "I realized I had lost something already and that there was something even more important I had yet to lose," I told him seriously, "I didn't want to risk it anymore."

The confusion in Duo's eyes subsided a bit more and the uncertainty was all but gone; unfortunately something else was making an appearance and I couldn't quite peg it.

After a moment of silence he warily asked. "What did you have to lose, Heero?"

Mustering up all my courage, I echoed the words I'd heard days before. "If I lost my chance to be with you? My sanity." My statement was answered only by slightly widened eyes. "I'd already lost my heart."

Duo's eyes widened even more, his shoulders tensing, and he turned away. I wasn't sure how to read that, what it meant, and I was still puzzling it when his voice came back at me, low and dangerous.

"Who told you?"

Again, not the reaction I'd been hoping for. "What do you mean?"

Duo jerked his hand out from under mine and stepped away from the porch, keeping his back to me. Instinctively I rose to follow. "Who told you?" he repeated. "Was it Hilde or somebody else?"

"I don't know what you mean, Duo. I haven't-"

He cut me off so violently that all I could do was stare at his back in shock.

"Don't fucking lie to me Heero! If there's one thing I can't damn well stand, it's blatant, fucking lies. Someone had to have told you what I said, so who was it? No, you know what? Don't answer that question 'cause it doesn't fucking matter. It sure as shit wasn't me! And since we were the only ones there, if it wasn't Hilde, that means she blabbed it to someone else. And you know what? I can't seem to decide which one would be worse." He continued to mumble and gesticulate, all the while keeping his back turned away. 

I took the opportunity to sort through what had happened. I'd thought using a semblance of Duo's own words would have been a nice touch. Had I dared think romantic? It wasn't my intent to mock him - far from it! I'd only wanted him to know, to understand, that I felt just as strongly about him. I'd wanted him to know that he was not alone. 

The barrage of profanities spewing quietly from his mouth, though, was increasing in volatility, if not in volume, and I began to worry that I'd irrevocably damaged any chance we had. My mind sourly added that Anita would definitely not consider this a step in the right direction.

Hoping to salvage the mess I'd made, I took a tentative step forward. "Duo," I called quietly, hoping not to anger him any more. But my call just made him take a step away, as if sensing that I'd closed the distance.

The voice that answered was like a serpent's hiss. "I really don't enjoy being the butt of anyone's jokes. If this is some sad attempt on your part to humiliate or use me, I'll make you regret you ever met me. I am not some pansy to be toyed with." 

He forced himself to stop and take a deep breath. I could almost see him count to ten, in and out, shoulders squared and standing ramrod straight. This was it: this could make or break our friendship. Any future that we might hope to explore would be decided by the outcome of this conversation. His voice was low and even when he spoke again.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, and you'd better fucking well not lie to me. I'll even be magnanimous and give you plenty of time to consider your answer. Keep that in mind before you do, though, because this is your last chance Heero. This could very well be the last thing you ever say to me that I'll actually listen to. Now, tell me who told you!"

My mind wanted me to scream 'No one!' in response, but thankfully my body did not comply. I knew that if I answered with that it would mean the end of our friendship, but I had to tell Duo something. No one had told me! How could I explain that to the breathtaking man before me that no one had betrayed his trust, that his friend had behaved beyond reproach. 

When I'd cornered Hilde early this morning outside her office, trying to discover his whereabouts, I'd all but had to threaten her. In the end I'd admitted to her that I'd been in the break room, that I'd overheard their conversation, and that I'd been beside myself when he had called to cancel our appointment. I'd argued long and hard to convince her that where her little brother was concerned my intentions were honest and trustworthy.

Suddenly a stray memory hit me like lightening. /From your lips to God's ears./ I had to tell Duo that those words had only ever passed his own lips; I had to make him listen and believe. I took a tentative step forward and when there was no negative reaction, another. Closing the distance between us, I threw my arms out and embraced him. After his initial jerk of shock, I pulled him closer and answered quietly, "You did."

The body in my arms then did something that I recognized intuitively but couldn't quite place. Duo's body jerked again in what I thought was an attempt to break free, but when no further resistance came I took the time to reevaluate it. Vague images of my parents' funeral crept into the corners of my mind and my consciousness groped for the parallel – what was the connection? When the realization finally came, I had no choice but to tighten the embrace. It was an action of grief. Loss. 

Duo, what do you think you've lost?

"You, Duo, your own lips told me. I was there. In the bathroom, caught, before I realized what was happening. I heard it. All of it. Every last word.

/No amount of wishing is gonna help me.  
…he's not interested.  
I've taken that walk before.  
Guys don't beat around the bush. You want it, you go for it.  
I can't keep hanging around and not want him so much./

For every statement I made, the body in my arms had reacted. The initial jerk of aborted grief eventually turned into a sustained trembling. When I felt that it was safe to loosen my grip, I gently turned his body to face me. I was heartbroken to find the silvery track of a tear on a face shuttered in pain.

"Eidetic memory, remember? I'll never forget it as long as I live." I slowly pulled his unresisting body closer, tucking his head against my shoulder. As carefully as possible, I tightened the embrace again, kissing away the salty moisture still clinging to his lashes. Whispering 'I'm so sorry' again and again. I hoped it would be enough.

Eventually, Duo arms lifted from where they'd hung listlessly at his sides, reaching around, circling my waist. We clung to each other fiercely, not speaking another word for a long time to come.

When both our fears finally seemed to subside, we slowly began to loosen our holds, but did not shift from our position.

With Duo still tucked into the curve of my shoulder, I ventured to move us forward another step. 

"I wish I could go back and do Sunday night over again."

I began to despair when there was no immediate response but then his quiet reply filled me with renewed hope. "What would you change?" 

"I wouldn't have sat on my hands." Just the thought of that night and what could have happened brought a smile to my face, but the unenthusiastic 'oh' I got in response prompted me to elaborate. "It would have left me free to put an arm across your shoulders." I shifted my right arm higher up on his back to demonstrate, "which would have allowed me to pull you closer." I was answered in kind when I tightened my embrace. "And that would have allowed me to do this."

The last word was whispered as I brushed a kiss along Duo's cheek. After a slight readjustment, I brushed another along his jaw. He seemed to be catching on and pulled his head back to look up at me.

There was hope shining in his eyes when at last I breathed, "And maybe this?"

This time the movement came from both fronts, as if drawn together by unseen forces, our lips met in a soft kiss. Our eyes shuttering closed, we repeated the act. Again and again, we kissed, parting only a hairsbreadth before going back for more.

Never in my life had I experienced this much joy, felt such rightness.

When Anita arrived home that evening, she had to have found everything exactly as she had left it. The paint cans, brushes, rollers and guide tape were stacked undisturbed at one end of the porch. The rocking chair had not moved an inch. 

On the porch, nothing had changed. 

TBC 


	13. Mornings

Splendor Restored Author: BadMomma Warnings: AU (my first), limey Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs Rating: R for language and some sexual situations Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.  
Archived: GWA, Under the Bridge Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.  
Notes: See Chapter 1. Duo POV

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

13Mornings

I sit up in bed, slightly disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, and wonder what it was that had woken me. In the silence that follows, I remember where I am and why I'm here. 

Heero's room.

Last night. 

A shiver runs through me at the memory of last night and I feel a satisfied smirk begin to take shape on my lips. A smirk that – if it weren't for the sound of the shower running in the bathroom – would have vanished with the realization that I was waking alone. 

Of course, I had told Heero about the event scheduled for the previous evening, but he'd known about it even before we got together. He had easily accepted this particular aspect of resort life since his arrival, having only failed to attend one of these soirees. So, like a good little resort customer, and now main squeeze of the PD, I had expected him to show. What I hadn't expected, was how it would affect me.

The event in question was our biannual 50's Party, a night for Greasers, Bobbie-socks and Poodle Skirts. They are, by far, the most popular of all our summer dinner parties, and this was the first one of the season. Everyone at the resort gets involved; everyone clamors to attend, even to be assigned to work that evening. From the youngest of the summer help to the oldest of the seasoned veterans, no one fails to get into the mood. 

Those of us that have been here for a while have our outfits down to a science. I, myself, had perfected the art of Richie Cunningham. I had the letter sweater and short-sleeved oxford, the khakis, the class ring. I even had the saddle shoes. The sweater was a little uncomfortable in the summer heat, but I only wore it while I was inside the ballroom and that was always kept suitably cool.

A lot of effort was made to try to be authentic. Many hours were spent watching shows and movies that were either made during or depicted life in that era. We consulted anyone who had been old enough to remember the fashion of the time and took their advice on what was accurate and what was not. For the men it was easy, with only a few odd pieces that were hard to get, while all the ladies at the resort had managed to acquire or make outfits befitting the time period. 

The event was always a big draw, so it didn't surprise me when Heero had confirmed earlier in the afternoon that he'd be attending. He'd called around three, saying that he needed to swing by my place to pick up some papers he'd left there on Wednesday night and to inform me that he'd try to be at the dance as early as possible. I reminded him that because it would be my last event before a full weekend off, I'd be very busy and might not be able to spend much time with him. He'd been very understanding and assured me that he would be glad of any time I could spare him, no matter how small.

So it was that when 6:45 rolled around, I was totally unprepared for the overload to my senses. I had just come from the kitchen with a crate of bottled root beers intended for one of the drink stations, when I happened to catch the mention of my name and turned to see Charlie pointing someone in my direction. That someone turned out to be Heero. Looking hotter than any man had a right to be.

As he casually strolled across the room toward me, I took in the full effect of his outfit. It was simplicity at its finest. I gave him the once-over - over and over - trying to take it all in at one time! I followed the line of his legs down the length of the snug denim, hugging him from hip to thigh; it ended with a pair of red-brown penny loafers that actually appeared to have pennies in them, and a hint of white sock peaking out between shoe and pant leg. I'd never seen those pants before! My eyes raced back up those enticing legs to stare at a white t-shirt so tight across his chest it rippled as his muscles moved underneath. I would have liked to get a good long look at his shoulders in that shirt, but the view was hidden by the, ever so important, black leather jacket that hung nicely on his frame. He'd even pushed a pair of wayfarer style glasses up into his hair, making all that wild hair of his even messier, calling for me to run my hands through it. 

Simple and simply enticing. It wasn't until he was standing right in front of me that I noticed the accompanying smirk.

"I take it that I look OK?"

"O- OK?" I stammered. "You look… Shit, Heero," I hissed "you look hotter than hell!"

The smirk faltered at that but in an instant was replaced with a look of longing. He made to move closer but stopped, looking around discretely. "Can we…? No, sorry, I know you can't. I shouldn't have come, now." 

His words were a little rushed and I feared he would leave. I grabbed at the corner of the jacket and tugged on it, keeping him from backing away.

"Hang on a sec." I looked past him, hoping to find someone to delegate my work to for just a few minutes. Charlie was back up on the ladder hanging a banner over the door; Robert was setting up the other drink station and there was no one else in sight. I was about to give it up for hopeless when Carl made an appearance. "Hey Carl, can you get somebody else to give you a hand with the drinks for a few minutes?"

"Yeah sure, kid. You wanna take a breather?" 

I nodded eagerly in response.

"No problem. You deserve it." He waved me off. "You've been working like a dog all afternoon. Take your time." 

"Thanks, man! I won't be too long." I tugged at the jacket again and motioned for Heero to follow me. Which he did without hesitation. 

We made a beeline for the patio doors, exited, and had no sooner rounded the corner out of sight of the ballroom, when I found myself pushed up against the wall. Heero's hands were on my jaw, mine were in his hair, our chests pressed against each other and our mouths locked in a searing kiss.

When we came up for air, we were both breathing hard. He moved in for another kiss, just a press of lips, then swiped my bottom lip with his thumb.

I let out a low whistle. "Damn. The Fonz never did it for me, but you!" 

He tried to laugh, but it came out unintentionally breathy. It was one of the sexiest things I'd ever heard. I dropped my hands to the collar of his jacket and pulled him in for another kiss. He took a huge breath when I finally let him go.

"Well, I must say, Richie and Potsie never made virginal Catholic boys look this good either."

I couldn't keep staring at him when he had that hungry look in his eyes, so I dropped my head to his shoulder and nuzzled at him through the jacket. "Well, this Catholic boy's not so virginal, but I'm glad you like it." I put my arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. 

He hummed a response and slipped his arms around me in return, rubbing up and down my back, dropping kisses on my neck and shoulder. We stayed like that for a few minutes, just enjoying the closeness.

"Heero, much as I'm enjoying this, I really need to…"

"Go. I know, you've gotta go." He finished the thought for me, but didn't release me. "When do you get off tonight?" His hands continued to run up and down my back, pressing us together.

"Ten." I answered as I pulled back to look at him again. We smiled at each other and I ran my hands down his arms, making him release me. "'Bout three hours from now."

"Then we have the whole weekend?" 

I nodded and he took a deep breath in response, closing his eyes blissfully.

"Good. I promise to try to stay out of your way until then."

I leaned in for another kiss and couldn't help smiling when his hands returned to my jaw, keeping me in place a little longer. Pulling back again I smiled as I disengaged. "Don't try too hard, OK? I might just like a little distraction every once in a while."

"Really?" 

I had to laugh at the look on his face when he finally opened his eyes and realized I wasn't where he expected me to be. I think he was honestly surprised that I'd managed to escape from between him and the wall without him noticing. He finally turned to lean a shoulder against the wall with a placid look on his face.

"Just not too often, OK? I really do have to work tonight." 

He smiled and nodded. 

It wasn't until I was backing away that I noticed. "Is that my jacket?"

"Yeah, I saw it in your closet the other day." He leered at me, "I figured a nice boy like you wouldn't need it tonight. I hope you don't mind me… taking your clothes." He ran a hand up and down the front of the jacket and for some reason I found it mildly erotic.

I think I did a good job of keeping the nervousness out of my laugh. "Um, no, no problem. Feel free to, uh" I waved my hand and tried for suggestive, not at all sure I pulled it off. "…take my clothes… whenever you like." 

He just raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Maybe later?" he responded and inclined his head.

All I wanted to do was swoop back in and kiss him again. What I did was take one last look and leave him standing there, still looking sexy as hell, holding up the side of the building.

The three hours that followed went by in seeming blur; with a few notable exceptions, I barely even saw Heero.

Somewhere a little before eight o'clock, I found myself by the bar in the lounge, where I was testing the sound system for the karaoke contest. Heero had found his way to my side and, under the pretense of helping equalize the speakers, had proceeded to distract me with a few discreet but well placed gropes. By the time people started to trickle in for the contest, he'd disappeared on me without so much as a kiss goodbye. Not only that, but I was hot under the collar and I still hadn't finished with the sound system.

I was again accosted shortly after nine as I exited the storage closet outside the kitchens in the Employees Only corridor. For the second time that night, I found myself pushed up against a wall. He had one hand on the back of my neck and the other at my hip, essentially keeping me immobile, as he plundered my mouth. When we broke for air, I gaped at him, intending to tell him that we shouldn't be playing tonsil hockey in such a public place. Any protest on my part, however, was abandoned in favor of more. He is damned convincing with that mouth of his. It ended just as abruptly as it had started and it wasn't until the door was swinging shut behind him that I registered his parting comment: 'One more hour.'

At ten minutes to the golden hour, I was decidedly excited. The anticipation was killing me. Our brief encounters throughout the night had done nothing but fuel the fire in my belly. Since I was already on the look out for him, it didn't surprise me when I found him staring at me from across the room with only five minutes to go. He stood almost motionless by the doors that led out to the patio. When he knew he'd made eye contact, he deliberately turned and exited through the doorway.

Those next five minutes were the longest in my life. The party was still roaring even though most the families with smaller children had left, but there were still plenty of teenagers and married couples to be found. I handed over control of the event to Robert, the more senior of my regular staff members, and bolted for the door I'd seen Heero pass through.

What greeted me when I made it onto the patio stole my breath away. If I'd thought him sexy earlier, there weren't words for what he looked like then.

He was leaning back against the side rail, his upper body arched just past vertical, legs crossed at the ankles. His right arm was bent at the elbow, resting on the railing, the leather jacket dangling from his fingertips. His head was turned to the right, dark hair tousled by the ocean breeze, eyes closed in enjoyment. The fingers of his left hand were lazily stroking his belly just above the waistband of his pants. He had pushed that indecent white t-shirt up to expose a strip of lightly bronzed skin.

In a heartbeat, I was on him, not sure how I'd managed to cross the distance that quickly. Not entirely sure I cared, either. At first the force of my kiss kept him bowed backwards, threatening to send us both over the railing. What appeared to be seconds, or perhaps even eons, later he was returning the force, pushing us upright, grasping at me with the same desperation I felt.

The hand initially trapped between us had freed itself and was firmly pressing at the small of my back. The other had abandoned the jacket to tangle at the top of my braid. We struggled with the need to be closer, wrestling with our desires. My hands had worked their way under the back of his shirt. One was heading up along his spine, the other trying to work its way downward, into the waistband of his jeans. His name was a litany on my lips, a mantra in short breaths. His voice answered me in kind.

I was on the verge of implosion when I found myself once again pinned, Heero's thigh pressed between my legs, his mouth devouring my collarbone. I dropped my head back and struggled to breath, opening my eyes to the shining stars above.

"Heero!" I gasped as leg and hip pressed more firmly. "Go. Now." I panted, not capable of forming coherent sentences. My mind was barely functioning. "Let's go!" I growled, trying to push away from the railing and hoping he understood.

"Yes," he hissed in response as my action pressed us closer still. Then he disengaged abruptly and held onto the railing while he caught his breath, his forehead pressed to the middle of my chest. "Yes," he repeated turning to grope blindly for the jacket he'd dropped earlier. It was then that I realized I'd lost my sweater at some point. I vaguely remember still having it on when I'd walked outside. 

How much time had passed since I'd come out here? Had anyone come out and seen us? When I glanced at my watch I realized we'd been at it for almost 20 minutes, but suddenly it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I didn't want to stop and that we couldn't continue it there. I grabbed at his hand and pulled him toward the stairs that would take us down the side of the building without having to go through the ballroom again.

"Come on!" I tugged again and flew down the stairs. He was right behind me. "Where's your cart?"

"Walked," he gasped, making another grab for me as we reached the ground floor. He kissed me again and began to push me toward the wall.

I evaded, pulling him toward the side of the building where I'd left my transportation. We climbed in and shot off toward his apartment. It was a little farther than mine, but we'd agreed to this beforehand. I had offered to let Hilde and Mike spend the night at my apartment, so we would be spending the night at his.

We were grabbing at each other again before we even made it through the front door, our mouths locked together in what seemed like an endless kiss. He'd made short work of the buttons on my shirt and I was struggling to pull his up. The jacket and sweater had again been lost somewhere along the way, hopefully on the floor of the apartment, but right then it didn't matter all that much.

We were up against a wall again, wriggling against each other for all we were worth. Just as I finally managed to free his shirt from his body, he made a go at my pants. The sound of the zipper being pulled down brought me to a realization of where exactly we were.

"Not here." I mumbled against his lips.

"Mmm." He seemed to agree. "Sofa?" he mumbled back and began to pull me toward the living room. I resisted. 

Suddenly all motion stopped. He pulled back a little and appeared to be formulating a question. Before he had a chance to ask it, I pressed for what I really wanted. I'd decided earlier to take this step.

I shook my head. "No sofa. Bed," I said firmly.

"You… want to?" I could certainly understand his confusion with my seemingly sudden change of heart. I'd already told him /that/ wouldn't be happening any time soon. 

For the first few days after getting together, we'd barely done anything more than make out and grope each other. Then after a few too many beers last Monday, he'd eagerly accepted my invitation to spend the night. 

Unfortunately, not an hour later, our activities on the sofa escalated and I'd hesitated. He'd backed off immediately, but his actions had been tentative from then on, seeming unsure how to act. That little exchange had pretty much put a damper on things and the night ended shortly thereafter with him on my sofa and me brooding on my bed.

I hadn't wanted him to come to the wrong conclusions about how I'd reacted, so in the morning I insisted we do a bit of talking. I explained my reluctance to go all the way so early in a relationship and the reasons behind it. At the risk of offending him by implying he was, I told him that I wasn't in it just for the sex. I'd taken a similar route with someone else before, gone too far too quickly, and had been burned. Badly. It wasn't that I didn't trust him, or rather that I didn't trust his intentions, but I just couldn't expose myself like that again. If he wanted to be with me, we'd have to move at a slower pace. He'd taken it quite well and had assured me that my reasons weren't as lame as I'd feared. 

Things had been OK; we'd moved forward since then but, honestly, not by much. So far, we'd only gone as far as the occasional dry hump and hand jobs and combined it with a little oral stimulation elsewhere. I had since discovered and repeatedly exploited a very sensitive spot just below his armpit. And he had learned precisely how to run his fingers along the curve of my hip and the exact spot to nibble on above my shoulder blade to elicit the most embarrassing sounds from me. Nothing nearly as intimate as two guys our age were likely to have done by this stage, but I was still a little unsure as to where exactly things could go between us. He was, after all, only likely to be here for another six or seven months.

I still felt like an idiot, to be quite honest, because I couldn't give him what he wanted, what I think maybe we both wanted. But as idiotic and melodramatic as it seemed, I just wasn't ready for all that. 

I looked him squarely in the eye and answered as confidently as I could, "I want more, Heero. I want to go to bed with you, just not…" I tilted my head and rolled my eyes. OK, maybe I /was/ acting a bit like a virginal school boy.

"No problem." He answered and swept in for my mouth with the force of hurricane, angling us toward the stairs without a second thought. As we struggled to make it to the bedroom, having to part occasionally to actually make it up the stairs, he reiterated his eagerness. "More is good. More's OK."

In the end he put that mouth of his to good use. Repeatedly. When we finally fell asleep, exhausted and spent around two in the morning, I don't think either of us were dissatisfied by thoughts of what we hadn't done.

Now, on the 'morning after', with the smirk fully in place, I begin to formulate a plan of action for our weekend, when the reason for my waking makes itself known again. 

Someone is knocking on the front door. Rather vehemently, at that.

I absently scratch at my chest and turn to look at the clock on Heero's night stand. The big red numbers are kind enough to inform me that whoever is trying to break the door down has absolutely no respect for the weekend. It's fucking 7:49 in the morning. On a Saturday! Who the hell visits at this hour?

I try to wait them out, but the knocking won't stop, so I resign myself to answering the door. It could, after all, be one of my guys looking for me. I'm not on duty today, but then again, I don't remember where I left my cell phone, and there might be some sort of problem only I can resolve. Maybe having noticed my golf cart parked outside, they decided to hunt me up. It wouldn't be Hilde; even if she was up and about, she'd have the good sense not to come knocking at this hour. 

Another set of knocks reminds me that I have yet to move. Slipping off the bed on the side nearest the door, I frantically look for something to slip on over my underwear. Answering Heero's door in my undies would probably not be the best course of action. At the very least, it would be embarrassing. The only thing I can find at hand are a pair of shorts Heero left out on the dresser, so I take those. Hopping into them as I go, I button and zip even as I'm heading down the stairs. The knocking is getting more insistent.

"Hang on! I'm coming!" I beg whoever is still knocking. I almost don't think to smooth my hair into place before reaching the bottom of the stairs. Braided or not, it's always a mess when I first wake up.

Without checking to see who's outside, I pull open the door and come face to face with a pretty young blonde. Her fist is already raised to make another volley of knocks.

"Well it's about time, Hee… oh! Oh, I'm so sorry! I thought this was Heer- someone else's room. Please forgive me for waking you at this hour, sir! I was sure they said my friend was in apartment B."

Two things happen at once, and I'm left gaping like a fish out of water in my sleep-muddled state. The sliding glass door to the balcony closes behind me - making me realize that in my haste to answer the door, I hadn't noticed it was open in the first place – and two people, whom I know only by name, acknowledge each other's presence.

"Trowa" comes from the girl in front of me who sounds less than pleased that he is not her intended target either. 

"Relena" is the answer from an unfamiliar and not entirely friendly sounding voice coming across the living room.

I turn to face the man walking toward us, looking a little sleep-mussed himself in drawstring shorts and a rumpled t-shirt. My move inadvertently allows our visitor the space she needs to make her entrance.

"What are /you/ doing here?" They ask each other in unison. 

He smirks in response to that. "I'm his roommate, remember?" 

Ah! So this is 'the' Trowa. As if there are likely to be that many of them.

His eyes flick from her to me and back to her again. I wonder if he's trying to figure out who I am, or if he knows about me. Realizing I'm still holding the door open for no reason, I close it. The damage has been done, after all. The apartment is full of people I know only by reputation. Turning to lean against the door, I watch them. Sooner or later one of them is going to want to know what I'm doing here.

Trowa has moved around the corner of the bar and is in the kitchen, pulling the bag of coffee from the fridge. He holds it up for my inspection, catching my eye with a questioning glance. I nod my acceptance and he moves to begin preparing it, but not before throwing a glance at the girl standing at the foot of the stairs.

"So Relena, you haven't answered my question, what are you doing here?"

"I am on vacation!" She huffs and flips some hair over her shoulder. "I thought I'd stop by and say hello to Heero before going out to the beach this morning." 

It is only now that I realize she's wearing a not-too-modest bikini top and a sarong wrapped very low on her hips.

"Do you always make house calls at this hour of the morning?" Though his back is turned to us, the smirk is evident in his tone of voice. "It is the weekend, you know. What if Heero'd been sleeping?"

"For as long as you've been his roommate, I would think you'd know by now that Heero does not sleep in late. He never has." She flicks her gaze up the stairs, right at the bedroom door that I left wide open and begins to move in that direction. 

For a moment I panic, thinking she might actually bolt up the stairs and catch him unaware – possibly coming out the bathroom and expecting to find me still asleep in bed. But instead of climbing the stairs, she just leans on the stair rail, as casual as could be. Trowa snaps the coffee basket into place, punches the brew button and turns to face us. 

"Yes, well it's still rather early and I don't think he was expecting you, was he?" His eyes flick from her to me again. "I know I wasn't." One corner of his mouth turns up just the slightest bit. I haven't quite figured out if it's to smile or smirk when his eyes flick to me again. This time, her gaze follows his and her eyes widen slightly. Seems she'd forgotten about me. 

"Oh. I- I didn't… realize you'd be here. Dori told me you weren't going to be here until next week." She flounders a bit and if I'm not mistaken she's blushing slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize… and you have company." 

She's looking between Trowa and me and it occurs to me that she thinks I'm with him. Her blush pitches a little darker and she stammers ahead. "I didn't mean to disturb you; I just wanted to let Heero know I was here and if there was anything I could help him with…" She leaves off at the sound of a heavy thump from above our heads.

Now, I know for a fact that noise could not be Heero's doing; the master suite is off the top of the stairs, not above the kitchen. If he'd left the bedroom, I would have seen him. My foot has just made contact with the bottom step, when a blonde head and a pale chest pop into view over the upstairs railing.

"Trowa! It's barely eight o'clock. What the hell are you doing out of bed already?"

What happens next is a bit of a blur as it all seems to happen at once.

At the sound of the blonde's voice, Relena whirls from her reclining stance, leaning into the stairwell and questioningly calls out, "Quatre?"

Heero appears in the doorway of the master bedroom, visibly damp from the shower and wrapped in a towel. Looking totally confused at the scene before him, his gaze travels between all the people standing around in his rented apartment.

Quatre reacts by pulling up the sheet he'd been holding around his waist to cover his bare chest, and answers the girl's call with one of his own. "Rele… Miss Dorlain!"

Then Trowa, who has somehow materialized ahead of me on the stairs, decides to take the situation in hand. "Alright everyone, it's too early for this shit. Relena, please, there are four men in this apartment and only one of them is fully dressed." He waves a hand at himself to indicate which one he's referring to. I think the rest of us all shrink in on ourselves a bit; I know I do, and I can see Quatre pulling his sheet a little higher. I can't believe I'm standing here, barefoot, in borrowed shorts and sleep-mussed in front of three people I don't even know. 

Trowa continues completely nonplussed. "Why don't you go down to beach for a few hours and we can all meet up here again for a nice lunch. That'll give everyone time to… make themselves ready for company. And Heero," he turns to his roommate who doesn't seem to have snapped out of his shock, "go put some clothes on before you scare the natives." Belatedly, he turns to Quatre, who blushes under the scrutiny. "You too," he says, waving the blonde away.

Quatre gathers up some of the sheet puddle at his feet and beats a hasty retreat without further comment. Trowa seems about to address me when Relena starts sputtering an objection. 

"I don't see why I can't just-" She doesn't get very far with it.

"Don't count on me; I won't be here. I have plans to be off the island today." Everyone turns to regard Heero, who is now fiercely clutching his towel with one hand and staring intently at Relena. 

More than anyone else, I think I'm the one most shocked by that announcement. Granted, we hadn't made any /actual/ plans for the day, but after last night, I thought we'd be spending a little time together. At least, that's what I'd understood from the way we were talking. Guess I was wrong.

"Heero?" If the dejected-sounding whisper that escapes me isn't embarrassing enough, having three sets of eyes lock onto me as a result of it clinches things. Reflexively, I cross my arms over my chest and hunch in on myself again. I feel decidedly exposed and out of place here. If it weren't for the fact that my keys are with my pants – which coincidentally must be somewhere on the floor of the master suite – I would have bolted in that instant.

Movement at the top of the stairs makes me look up, and I see Heero stepping away from door. His eyes catch mine and the intensity bleeds from them just a bit, making me feel a little more at ease. I take a quiet breath of relief.

"Relena," his gaze turns back to her and I can see he's struggling not to be abrupt with her, "I appreciate your offer. Consider it noted. You did, however, agree not to interfere in my affairs while you were here on vacation. I am not here for fun, nor am I here to entertain you. Dori and your father agreed to let you come because you promised that you wouldn't be coming over here."

"I hardly need their permission to choose where I go on vacation, Heero. I am not a child!" It seems to really bother her that he implied that. "And you're obviously not working right now. I don't see why I can't come over just to say hello to a friend. It is the weekend after all."

Trowa looks like he is about to butt in but a look from Heero stops him. He makes his way back toward the kitchen and, with a slight tilt of his head as he passes, indicates that I should follow. 

Before we're done pouring out the coffee, Heero has again thanked Relena for her offer of help, thanked her for stopping by, suggested - in an overly polite manner - that she not stop by again without first calling and curtly dismissed her without explaining about the rest of the people in the apartment – including me. I get the distinct impression that he will be harder to get a hold of for the next week.

Once she is out the door again and Heero has gone to get dressed, Trowa formally introduces himself.

"Sorry if we startled you. Quatre and I decided to head down for the weekend late yesterday and I couldn't get in touch with Heero before we left."

"Oh, no problem, I was just a little surprised by the number of people in the apartment. It was a lot more empty when we…" went to bed together last night? No, not smooth Maxwell. I clamp my trap shut on that one.

He chuckles good-heartedly and slaps me on the back. "Yes, well, you two were definitely /sleeping/ when we arrived last night." He takes his coffee and sits at one of the high chairs that line the other side of the breakfast bar, laughing quietly at something. 

It takes me a moment to realize that if we were both sleeping when they arrived, then they'd gotten into the apartment without waking one of us, which means they must have… Oh my God! I don't think we closed the door when we stumbled into the room pawing at each other the night before. I could feel the heat suffusing my face. I am entirely not accustomed to blushing – though since meeting Heero, it's starting to become a habit – but this is extremely embarrassing.

"Don't worry, we didn't see anything… Much… Really." He laughs for just a moment at my expense and then relents. "Honestly, Heero was up by the time we got all our stuff inside. He showed us to the other bedroom and promised to make introductions in the morning."

I groan and drop my head into my hands. My God, what an impression I must have made on his friends. Granted from the looks of things, and if Quatre's sheet was any indicator, Heero and I were not the only ones sharing a bed. It would have been so much nicer, though, if I'd actually met them before they'd seen me half naked in their friend's bed.

Trowa's continued chuckles are cut short by a gentle reprimand. "Stop it, Trowa. You shouldn't be giving him a hard time. Especially not after what he's been through this morning." 

I look up to find Quatre, the formerly sheet-toting blonde, making his way toward the coffee machine, now dressed in a pair of drawstring shorts that are almost identical to the ones Trowa is wearing.

"By the way, I'm Quatre Winner. I'm sure you've figured that out by now, but we haven't formally been introduced. You're Duo, right?" I grunt in the affirmative and he pats me on the shoulder as he reaches to fill his mug. On his way back around the bar, he leans in close to my ear. "It would probably ease Heero's mind a little if you went back upstairs right about now. I noticed he'd been tidying up when I passed by the room. He only does that when he's upset or nervous about something."

I groan again and kick myself for being stupid. I hadn't had the presence of mind to think about seeking Heero out after Relena left. I wonder what he must be thinking. Grinning amiably at the two men who are sipping coffee across from me, I excuse myself.

I'm not halfway up the staircase before the whispering starts.

"Damn, he's cute! Wouldn't mind waking up to that every morn- Ow, what the hell was that for?"

"To remind you of whom you do wake up to on occasion."

"God you're grumpy in the morning, I was just commenting. So you think he's the right material?" 

Material? What the hell?

"From the blush I got when I mentioned what we walked in on last night, I'd say he's not the one night stand type."

"Oh good. I think Heero's about due for a nice boyfriend."

"Love, he's /over/due for /any/ kind of boyfriend. But from what he's been telling me, this guy definitely fits the description for nice."

Nice and cute, huh? I guess there's worse things someone's friends can call you. And they think I'm good boyfriend material! Well, that's good to know, too. At least I won't have to work too hard to get in their good graces. Not making friends with 'the friends' is never a good situation. Not that I'm exactly sure we've made it to the boyfriend stage yet; it hasn't even been a couple of weeks since we got together. Exciting, hot, invigorating and um, hot couple of weeks, but less than a couple, nonetheless. 

Of course, cresting the top of the stairs makes me question the mental stability of Heero's friends. Quatre had said he was tidying up. If what I can see is what Quatre considers tidying, I'd hate to see what he considers making a mess.

The bed has been stripped bare – sheets, blankets, pillows and bedspread are all M. I. A. – most of it is tossed together in a sprawling pile at the foot of the bed. The pillows themselves are lying naked in a corner next to a pile that looks like the clothes we were wearing last night. Our belts and shoes are huddled in their own little pile a couple of feet away. The closet door is open, as is the bathroom door, but Heero is nowhere in sight.

"Damn it, Dori, she hasn't even been here a day and it's already started." 

His voice coming through the open door to the balcony alerts me to his current location. And his state of mind.

"Fine, fine. Let's say she really did just stop by to say hello. Don't tell me you actually believe she was heading out to the beach at this hour of the morning. Relena is the laziest person I know when it comes to getting up in the morning; she's always running late for work!"

As I come around the bed, I can see him pacing in a corner of the balcony, running a hand through his hair in an agitated manner and nodding at whatever his coworker is saying.

"Yes… Yes, OK, but you better talk to her. And make sure she listens, because if she pulls another stunt like this one, I will call Richard. And I don't care what kind of trouble it causes. I will not have her showing up here at all hours of the day and night, half naked!"

He stops and pulls the phone away from his ear to stare at it in disbelief.

"I will so tell Richard his daughter was traipsing around my apartment in a fucking bikini top! Harmless or not, she's getting dangerously close sexual harassment, damn it, and I'm getting tired of it!"

He starts to run a hand through his hair again and abruptly stops. The hand that was in his hair goes up in the air in one of those 'I told you so' gestures and he's nodding deeply – as if the girl on the other end can see him. It's almost funny. And definitely cute. I don't think I've seen him this worked up about anything since I've met him and it's kind of nice to see that his cage can be rattled. By something other than his hormones, that is.

"Alright, thanks, Dorothy, really. I do appreciate it… Yes, I know you're not her mother… Yes, and I am sorry I woke you up at this hour… Yeah, I promise. Just call me and let me know once you've talked to her… Uh-huh, yeah… OK, I'll talk to you Monday. Thanks."

Finished with his call, he takes a few deep breaths to calm down. Now would probably be as good a time as any to let him know I'm here, but I'm thoroughly enjoying the view. He is one damned good looking man! When my eyes encounter his bellybutton and that little trail of hair just above it, they slowly make their way up to catch his eyes. Oh baby! And I am getting as good as I give.

"Good morning." He practically purrs at me, pocketing the phone and making his way over to the door.

"Hi." I answer brightly and wait for him to reach me.

He walks right up and smoothly pulls me against him, dipping in for a light kiss. I settle my arms around his waist, under the unbuttoned shirt he's wearing. The skin of his back and sides is still warm and slightly damp from his shower. I could so get used to this.

"Sorry about the commotion this morning. It's not usually like that." He makes a little grimace that I find way too amusing and dips in for another kiss, this one not quite as light.

I grin at him when he releases me. "Really? You mean bikini-clad and sheet-toting blondes weren't part of the regularly scheduled events? I don't know Heero…" I shake my head in mock disappointment and he chuckles for me.

"Well, I'll see what I can do with regards to the sheet-toting blondes, but I absolutely refuse to entertain any more of the bikini kind." 

He leans his upper body back a bit and runs his hands through my hair until they meet at the top of my braid then leans in for another kiss. We shift a little and I find myself pinned between him and the doorframe. The kissing is getting a little intense and the feel of his tongue on my lips reminds me that I haven't made the requisite morning visit with my toothbrush yet.

He gives me a puzzled look when I evade. "What?"

Smirking and covering my mouth with my hand, a little too self-conscious at such close range, I mumble "Morning breath".

He smiles at me with a look that says he thinks it's sweet and begins to lean in again. "I don't care" he whispers.

"I do!" I bark a laugh in reply and push at him playfully with the arm still around his waist but he doesn't let me go. He runs his hands over my hair again and rocks into me. His eyes travel my face hungrily.

"I don't know what it is or how you do it, Duo Maxwell, but you make me want to stand here and kiss you all damned day."

His hands travel down the side of my face, along my neck, over my shoulders, coming to rest on my upper back, his fingertips dancing along my spine. His body is rocking against mine again, but I don't think he's doing it to arouse me; the movement is fully body, not from the hips. He's so intense, it's like he's just trying to get closer. It makes me shiver. 

I like it. I like him. I like to feel him pressed full up against me. He's intoxicating! I'd love to stand here and do nothing else all day, but…

"Didn't you have somewhere you needed to go?"

"Go? No, why would-"

"Earlier, back there, you said you planned to be off the island today."

He looks puzzled for a moment, then gives me a lopsided smile. "Oh, that." He rolls his eyes. "I lied." His eyebrows wiggle up and down for effect. "It was the first thing that came to mind. I know Trowa was just trying to get rid of her without actually insulting her, but I think Quatre's more diplomatic nature is beginning to rub off on him. He never would have said shit like that before they started dating. I just…" he shrugs and leans back a bit to look at me more fully, "I wanted to spend the weekend with you. I know we hadn't talked about it or made any plans, and you said it was your first full weekend off in a while but, I mean, unless you have something else you need to do, I was kind of hoping that we could, you know, maybe…"

"Heero," I put my fingers up to his lips to stop him from spewing nonsense. He's really cute when he gets nervous, "I'd like that!" I nod encouragingly for him when he looks a little surprised. "Very much. I was kind'a hoping the same thing. But…"

"But what?"

"Well, you have company now. And they're probably wondering why it's taking the two of us so long just to change the sheets." Looking over my shoulder, I nod at the mess in the bedroom. "We should probably clean that up and go downstairs, don't you think?"

"Do we have to?" He fakes an exaggerated pout and it makes me laugh.

"We really should. Come on, between the two of us it'll only take a minute." I pull his hand as I sidestep into the room.

He catches me around the waist from behind, kissing my shoulder and rubbing his cheek against mine. "Why don't you go grab a shower and I'll take care of this. Meet me downstairs when you're done?" He kisses me again and releases me, pushing me in the direction of the bathroom.

"You sure? I don't mind helping."

"No, I'll have it done in a minute."

I make my way around the piles on the floor to the bathroom, picking up the shirt I was wearing last night. I figure I can use that and put the shorts I'm wearing back on until I find where my bag is, when a thought occurs to me.

"Heero, why did you strip the bed? It's not like we…" How does one politely say 'came all over it'?

"Habit." He replies without even looking at me.

"Really? You change the sheets everyday?"

He stops this time and looks at me. "No. It's a… a nervous habit. I clean when I get… upset." He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed.

I can't help but snicker at that and he is not amused. He frowns. 

"Sorry. Actually… I think it's kind'a cute. I could get real used to having someone handy like you around my place." 

I manage to close the bathroom door before the pillow he throws connects with my head.

Yeah, I could really get used to having him around. 

Big time.

The End.

(Epilogue to follow)

SH0617 


	14. Epilogue

Splendor Restored – Epilogue

Author: BadMomma

Warnings: AU (my first), limey

Pairings: 1x2x1, some mention of 3x4, OCs

Disclaimer: Own them, I do not.

Archived: GWA, Under the Bridge

Feedback: Craved, greatly appreciated and always answered.

Notes: See Chapter 1.

Summary: A Renovations Consultant finds more than just old buildings of interest on his new job site when he gets tangled up with the resort's Program Director.

Epilogue

It's been almost three years since I first drove down the road that leads to the Pirate's Cove Resort. Three years since my neat, orderly, controlled little world was thrown off its center. Three years since I first set eyes on him.

I clearly remember the excitement I felt over that new project. I remember the hope that it would bring drastic changes to my life, be it securing my position in the firm or opening doors to new opportunities. At the time, hope was something that had only existed for me in that one aspect of my life. It seems inconceivable to me now that I'd been living the way I was. While I had a few friends, who I'd spent time with and enjoyed the company of, I was truly only living a half-life. I think at some point I'd given up all hope of ever experiencing personal fulfillment outside of work. I had loved my parents, as only a child could, and when I'd lost them, the void it left had almost consumed me. I think that at some point in the intervening years I'd resigned myself to being alone, to never again experiencing the joy they had shared with me. I hadn't thought about love in a very long time. I think I had numbed myself to the absence of it.

It never would have occurred to me, all that time ago, that coming to this place, driving down this road, would change my life so completely. Because, not two days after that first fateful drive, I met the man that would set those changes in motion. And since then, life has certainly become interesting for me.

One of the biggest changes is that today, after a long business trip, I'm rushing to get home. Home. To the place where I live now, the house that we share, the man who holds and nurtures my heart. Home to Duo, who waits for me and teases that I'm usually so quiet he hasn't really missed me then, in the same breath, scolds me that I should have given him more warning of my arrival.

I've often teased him that he's brought a certain amount of chaos into my orderly little life. But the truth is that what he's done is bring /life/ into what was an otherwise boring existence.

Take, for instance, the Dorlain-Dermail Christmas parties. I'd attended them every year without fail since being hired as an intern. I'd always put in an appearance – with or without my roommate – always arriving early and never staying more than an hour, just to fulfill the obligation, a fact that was not lost on anyone who knew me. I'd never failed to participate in the gift exchange, but I'd also never truly given any thought to the recipient or the gift I was buying. Upon arriving at the event, I'd make sure, above all else, to greet or be seen by all the partners and department heads; then I'd seek out and greet anyone who had the power to adversely affect the successful completion of my project tasks. And then, once I'd checked off all my things to do and people to see, I would make my lame excuses and leave.

The only time that it was any different – what turned out to be my last Dorlain-Dermail Christmas party – was the one occasion Duo attended with me.

He had told me beforehand that there was an art – or a science perhaps – to surviving these types of functions and that I would be wise to follow his lead. We arrived approximately 34 minutes late, not punctually on the hour and not predictably at an hourly milestone such us 15, 30 or 45 past. This, according to Duo, was so that we did not appear to be purposely arriving late, nor did we appear to be too eager to make our presence known. After placing my - for once - carefully selected gift in the designated location, we'd lingered, looking around as if deciding where to go next. In actuality he had asked me to identify the people I felt the need to /greet, but not necessarily /talk to/. With that knowledge in hand, we took a leisurely stroll toward the bar; making a few, clearly obvious, deviations to greet those previously identified people. Then, with drinks in hand, 'Linger and bolt' became our M.O. It was an incredibly simple plan, since at the time I still felt the need to have a one. We would linger in a spot until someone approached us or we found someone else to approach; then, after a reasonable amount of time, we would politely bolt – always having 'noticed' someone else we wanted to greet.

I could kid myself and say that I was a hit - a hot commodity - that evening, casually hob-nobbing with both the partners and peons like myself, but the truth is that without Duo I probably couldn't have managed it. He made it so easy for me, moving us from one person or group to the next, always prompting me to tell him who people were, what they did, what I knew about them. I think he even picked up a little fan club while he was at it.

There were four women in particular who seemed to take a great interest in him, maybe even in both of us, though I'm not entirely sure. Most the women in the office – with the notable exception of Dori and Relena – rarely ever even spoke to me. But on that evening, with Duo at my side, their eyes were on us constantly. He made a huge impression on Shannon, an art student from the local college interning with the Rendering department. They talked for what seemed like hours just about their hair – she had a braid that might one day rival his. Then there was Debbie, from the IT group; she's someone I'd actually had conversation with in the years I'd worked there, since computers were one of my hobbies. She, of course, seemed to need to know everything about him, about how we'd met. Then, just when I was thinking it was about time to 'bolt' again - not that I had anything against Debbie but we'd been there a while - she'd called over two acquaintances of hers, only one of whom I knew, and the 'linger' lingered on. Sharon, I knew because, aside from being a very nice lady, she's responsible for reviewing and approving our RFPs before they go out. She's one of those people I'd always made sure to greet at the party in the past. Leslie, it turns out, had only recently been hired away from a firm in California and worked alongside Sharon, though I got the impression that she and Sharon knew each other from somewhere else.

We spent the better part of an hour talking to them before parting ways. Every time we passed any one of them for the remainder of the evening, they would always make eye contact or wave politely, though I think we may have embarrassed ourselves and Shannon when she caught us kissing by the water fountain. I could have sworn I heard her squeak before running the other way. The next time we saw her she kept shooting us furtive glances while talking to Debbie and scribbling furiously on a napkin.

Ultimately, with the help of Trowa and Quatre, who were also in attendance, we managed to stay until the end, keeping ourselves casually entertained. I've been told we left just minutes before the music stopped.

My behavior at the Christmas party isn't the only thing that has seen a change; it seems Duo's fervor has seeped into almost every aspect of my being. His after-effects linger on me. I've been told that I laugh a lot more now than I used to, that I smile more – frown less. Quatre has said that I'm more open and approachable. Anita says that I am very obviously happy and that I look younger. If I'm completely honest with myself, I must say that I feel freer, like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

But then again, there are other things have become just slightly more… uncomfortable. I can no longer enter a sporting goods store without suffering a terminal blush. And this too is Duo's fault. He'd made an offhand comment one day that I'd worn my Nike sneakers and a Nike t-shirt, saying that he'd always thought me more an Adidas man. It had initially left me puzzled: if I owned one article of Adidas clothing, it was a lot, but when pressed he'd refused to elaborate. It wasn't until weeks later when I'd walked in on him singing and dancing along to the radio, that I'd come to understand the true meaning of his statement. Never heard the song A.D.I.D.A.S. by Korn? Go listen, and see if you don't die of the embarrassment. Though I must admit, it feels damned good to know he /sees/ me that way.

The same night I caught him dancing to A.D.I.D.A.S., I was treated to a lurid encore of what I've come to refer to as the Bonfire Dance. Performed exclusively for me, in the privacy of his bedroom, in a pair of black boxer briefs and nothing else, hair loose and hips shaking; he'd /enhanced/ the routine for this private viewing. He did the entire dance, standing over and moving all around me, while I lay on his bed. Half way into it I was so turned on, I didn't think I would last through the end of the song. That night, when the dancing was done, he played me like a demon fiddle.

Even after all this time, it still surprises me occasionally that he is as sexually aggressive as he is. When we'd first gotten together, he hadn't been that way. He had set the tone, yes, a slow and steady pace, but he had not really led when things came right down to it. And yet it was he who, barely more than month after we got together, took our relationship to the proverbial point of no return.

In the weeks leading up to my birthday that first summer there, he'd gotten in the habit of making some… intriguing… statements. Statements I very much wanted to believe were meant to imply certain. While he rarely ever out-right lies, he is very creative in his short-of-the-truth declarations. Whenever someone had asked what he was getting me, he'd hedge, saying he already had something in mind. If pressed about when he planned to shop for it or acquire it, he'd say he didn't need to 'shop', because he knew precisely what he would give me and where to find it – often amending that he was 'intimately' familiar with the item, or that it was 'close at hand'. Once he went as far as to say he'd had a good grip on /it/ for quite some time – this while smirking at me. It had seemed to me at the time, that all his answers to questions of my gift, implied that we would be taking our physical relationship to the next level. The more I'd thought about it, the more I'd questioned my interpretations, but I couldn't hold back the hope or my excitement at the prospect. When my birthday finally did roll around, I got what I had hoped, what he had implied, but by then it'd been a moot point. The weekend before, fate had intervened.

It all started snowballing on a hot Thursday morning. We'd decided to meet at the courtyard for an early lunch. He was taking The Girls out that afternoon and I was scheduled to meet one of the prospective contractors at the resort, but he'd wanted me to look over the drawings he had to turn in for his animation class that evening. Though I would have preferred to meet somewhere a little more private, the courtyard was the best bet for seeing each other that day. It wasn't that I'd hoped to engage in any strenuous activities during our lunch hour but he always seemed hesitant to display more than the most basic of affections when we were out and about at the resort. Despite claiming that everyone /knew/ about him and that it didn't bother him if people knew we were together, we rarely so much as touched hands – much less lips – however briefly, out in the open.

So in the light of day, amid foliage and fancy patio furniture, we'd greeted each other as was becoming habit in public - a slightly lingering touch to the shoulder, arm or back - dropped our belongings and headed into the kitchen to get ourselves something to eat. We'd sat, eaten, talked, and perused his drawings. We'd been bantering back and forth, trying to achieve the right mood for their avenging crusader Jarhead - a teenage mutant whose head resembled a jam jar due to a science experiment gone wrong - when the call came from my contractor.

The man had just disembarked from the ferry and was on his way to the main building in the dizzying company of Jim Hennessy. Remembering my own experiences with the young resort employee, and feeling an inordinate amount of sympathy for the man, I hurried to ready myself for his arrival. In the act of gathering my things, I'd looked around, suddenly noticing that there was no one else in the courtyard or adjoining grounds and no one that I could see had a clear view of our current position. I'd turned back to find Duo with his feet still propped against the edge of the chair opposite him, head bent over his sketch pad, diligently illustrating. My gaze lingered on him. The tip of his braid had gotten caught between him and the chair back, causing the length of it to loop outward across his shoulder, exposing that little spot at the back of his neck that almost never sees the light of day. I love that spot, its scent, its smoothness. And so, being besotted with him the way I am, have been, and probably will be for a long time to come, I'd leaned over and kissed it.

To say that it surprised him could very well be the understatement of the century. His hand shot up, pencil and all, nearly taking my eye out in the process. He turned to me, eyes wide and incredulous, mouth moving in a struggle to decide how to voice his shock. I'd almost laughed in the face of his obvious confusion but instead apologized, claiming that I'd simply been unable to stop myself. Confusion lost control of his features as a sweet, somewhat chagrin, look took over. 'I don't mind' rolled off his tongue even as a lopsided grin and rolled eyes told me that he realized his reaction had contradicted his words. His fingers were still lingering on the spot I'd kissed. When I'd stared pointedly at his hand, he'd dropped it, reiterating that he hadn't minded, just been surprised. Not having wanted to make a bigger deal of it than was necessary, I'd snickered and patted him on the shoulder in farewell, turning to be on my way. I was brought up short.

He'd caught me by the wrist and stood; whether it was to challenge me or just meet me eye-to-eye, I hadn't been sure initially. I caught a flash of that /something/ wild – feral – I'd previously seen a few times, right before his hand clasped the back of my neck and his mouth connected with mine.

His lips diligently worked me until my shock passed and I'd responded, then he worked them a little longer for entirely different reasons. When he was good and well satisfied he pulled back, knocking our foreheads together gently and telling me that when he said he didn't mind, he /meant/ he didn't mind. 'OK' was the only thing I'd had enough mental capacity to answer at the time. He'd nearly growled before gently knocking heads with me again, 'Good. Now get the hell out of here before I drag you under the boardwalk and show you /precisely/ what I wouldn't mind'. And with that he'd released me, almost flinging me away with the hand that had been at my neck.

That was the moment that had shifted things. He'd thrown me off my controlled center again like he hadn't done in weeks. That hesitant, near docile behavior he'd been showing me since the Sunday after my first bonfire had disappeared, replaced by the vibrant, willful, confidant man I was more used to dealing with.

Remembering what he did in the days that followed is enough to make my blood boil.

Saturday afternoon found us at a friend's house watching another round of soccer games. Back-to-back games were followed up by a barbecue and a dip in the pool. We left his friend's place well before midnight, begging off early only because we'd wanted to catch the last ferry back onto the island, even though we would have had other options if we'd missed it. By unspoken agreement, we ended up at the Glades as it was still, officially, only inhabited by myself, since Trowa's arrival had been delayed another month. Despite having more than one at our disposal, we decided to take turns in Master bathroom to rid ourselves of any left over chlorine… and barbecue sauce.

It had been… an interesting afternoon. As the hours had worn by, he'd become increasingly playful and affectionate, both out in the open and in a few stolen private moments. More than once, he'd approached me from behind, only to press up against me to nuzzle at my neck or shoulders. He'd licked sauce off my fingers and face, once to the accompaniment of his friends' hooting and catcalls. We'd also had a very brief, impromptu make-out session in the hallway that led from the bedrooms to the main part of the house. And no, we'd not been on our way /to/ the bedrooms, but on our way back from changing into borrowed swim shorts.

For me, having someone interrupt said kissing with the comment 'get a room already' should have, under normal circumstances, been enough to wipe all pleasure from the memory. Just the fact that his intensity is what I remember most vividly is what speaks volumes about the mood he'd been in. It was almost as if he'd experienced spikes of affection throughout the day. I'd labeled it lust at the time, but in retrospect I realize it wasn't quite that. His passion had been tempered and sensual, not sexual; erotic as opposed to pornographic, if that makes any sense at all.

When I'd exited from the bathroom, he'd been sitting on the edge of the bed watching me with that same look I'd been seeing all day. Since he didn't immediately move to take his turn, I tried to draw him out, inquiring what he wanted to do when he was done. I was trying to judge his mood, get a feel for what he had in mind. He'd shrugged, surprising me by suggesting we could watch TV in bed. That was not something we ever really did so it was enough to let me know that he was still in an odd mood.

I'd gone about getting everything ready, or as ready as I could without having figured out what he had in mind. I'd turned out all the lights save for the one on the night table, folded the bedspread at the foot of the bed, loosened the light sheet we usually slept with and artistically – or perhaps provocatively – draped a corner of it across my midsection, leaving one leg exposed in a way that let him know just how much clothing I /wasn't/ wearing. Then I'd grabbed the rather boring novel I'd been perusing off and on for the last week and pretended to be reading. All my maniacal planning and imagining had seemed unnecessary when he'd emerged from the bathroom with towels at hip and head and asked 'Nothing good on TV?'

Before I'd had the chance to formulate an answer, grab the remote or cover myself up more normally, he'd waved his own comment off – along with the towel on his hips – and thrown himself diagonally across the bed and half on top of me.

'How about…,' he speared me with an intense look, 'you put that boring book down' – here he plucked it from my lax hand and tossed it to the floor - 'and help me with my hair?' He'd freed it from the towel then and managed to brush a kiss against my ribs in the act of draping his hair across my chest. 'We'll figure the rest of it out after, OK?' Then, without waiting for a response, he'd pushed himself up to meet my lips with a kiss that was incredibly more intense than the ones we'd shared in his friend's hallway. After an eternity of bliss, he'd pulled back far enough to rub noses, humming his delight with softly closed eyes, before finally scrambling off the bed sighing a quiet, 'Hair. Brush. Be back.'

While tending to his hair, I felt like I was watching someone learn to drive stick shift. He'd have these bursts of physical intensity – touching, nuzzling, kissing - then suddenly he'd stall, retreating into a quiet shell, only to start up again a short while later. It was a dizzying experience; he kept catching me off guard. My heart rate would no sooner settle before he was making it escalate again. It wasn't until his hair was dry enough for him to feel comfortable binding it that he began to regain some sort of balance. I knew after a day like the one we'd had that we wouldn't be going straight to sleep. But still I wondered, somewhere in the back of my mind, if he had something specific planned. He hadn't, and I had no more foreseen the eventual outcome than he had.

Hair issues resolved, he'd settled against me, both of us on our sides, hands running gently over each other as we kissed. We'd walked this path before, we'd done these things, and it seemed to afford him a certain amount of calm. We hadn't gone all the way yet, and despite wanting it very much, I was OK with that. I knew he had issues but I figured that if things worked out between us, it would be well worth the wait. I was willing to wait. The pleasure we shared regularly was enough to tide me over, enough to satisfy my need to be with him.

Eventually, though, things began to escalate – the touches becoming more sexual, taking a well known path to their usual end. We'd rolled. We'd wrestled. We'd licked and sucked, bitten and kissed all over. We'd made each other gasp and moan. And then – in a moment that seemed to have snuck up on both of us - he found himself gaping down at me, struggling to form words, as his chest hovered above me. His hips were lodged firmly between my legs, straining in an upward movement. He had one of my legs hiked up, bending it back over my body, while his hand grasped at knee and thigh to keep it in place. His other hand had hooked itself over the curve of my shoulder, fingertips just barely reaching the front, straining to pull me down. A strangled sound escaped him when his hips bucked involuntarily, but the action served only to make him freeze, pressed against me, shock clearly written on his features.

I saw it in his eyes, in that moment, the realization of where this was leading, of what came next. But I also saw the hesitation, that it had not been planned. It became obvious to me that he did not know if he would – or could - go through with it. And then I saw the beginnings of retreat.

I must admit that when I'd imagined our first time together, I had not imagined it this way. Not since my earliest experiences with my college mentor, had I been on the receiving end often. Maybe twice in all the time since then. And that's when it struck me.

He'd been hesitant in the weeks since we'd admitted our interest in each other and he'd followed my lead in the bedroom, not because he didn't desire it or didn't desire me, but because he'd been unsure. Unsure that what we had could last or that I would stay after we'd taken that most intimate of steps. Maybe, even, that he could trust me not to hurt him.

I knew, suddenly and startlingly, that if I allowed him to pull back and allowed him to deviate from the current course, it would be a long time before he let himself stray this far again. I didn't want that. I liked how he'd been with me these last few days. I liked seeing his desire, his intensity and his passion. He'd kept himself and his desires so tightly reined for so many years, that despite being unlike every other aspect of his personality, I had accepted it as the way things would be.

Making up my mind, I dug my heel into his back, keeping him where he was. Afraid to spoil the moment with words, I shook my head slightly, digging my heel in again to convey the message that I wouldn't accept his retreat. He gaped at me, looking down at where we were nearly joined, then up again. The uncertainty was still there, but so was the desire. Slowly, I dipped my chin in a nod of acceptance, following it with a slight lift of my hips. The action pressed him against me more firmly, causing a surprised 'ha' to leave his still gaping mouth. I nodded again slowly, once more pushing gently with my heel to encourage action on his part. A strong resolve suddenly appeared in his eyes, his mouth snapped shut and he licked his lips; looking down again and pressing just a little more firmly. The action shocked a short breath out of me then, making our eyes lock onto each other. He stopped again, still pressed against me but not moving further, stuttering: 'We need…'

They were the first words either of us had spoken in some time and, while I appreciated the sentiment and the concern, I wasn't sure we'd be able to regain our momentum if we stopped now. I declined, admonishing him to go slowly. While some form of lubricant would have helped ease things along, I knew it could be done without it. For some reason, the thought of working with only spit and precum, increased my excitement.

In retrospect, it took what seemed like forever before we he was fully seated and I don't think I'd ever enjoyed the joining process more. He made shallow, rounded thrusts for an eternity before finally beginning to move in an in-and-out motion, and even then the pace was sedate for a very long time. Throughout it all, his eyes rarely left mine. At first I think it was to gage my reaction, my level of comfort, but towards the end it was as if our eyes could no more break away than the rest of our bodies. Not until we reached that peak.

That first time together for us had to have been the embodiment of lovemaking. Oh we've made love, had sex, even fucked each other silly, since then, but truly and honestly, there was something about that first experience we've never quite matched again. What he gave me that night outshines almost everything else in my memory of him.

Now it's not like I haven't equally participated in this relationship or given him anything in return. I think I've given him something that he hadn't had in years, maybe not since he was a child: a steady presence in his life, someone who has chosen him, accepted him as he is. I've given him love, affection and a sense of belonging not born of a familial commitment. You could argue that his two closest friends had also given him this, but what I offered was different. I offered him my whole self, body and soul, to have and to hold, for as long as he wanted.

There was one time about seven months after we actively started dating, almost at the point of completion of the first phase of my work at the resort, when I thought that a misunderstanding might have seriously jeopardized our relationship. His trust issues were something I was quite familiar with and it seems he'd been nervous about the impending end of my contract.

I'd needed to go home to the apartment I still shared with Trowa back then to attend the funeral of one of our coworkers. I had only planned to be away a few days and had packed hastily when I received the call, having only the opportunity to leave him a rushed message saying I was going out of town. In keeping with Murphy's Law – what could go wrong, did.

It took me a very long time to realize I'd left my cell phone behind in my haste to leave and by then the damage had been done. Apparently Duo had tried to call me back that afternoon and had repeatedly gotten my voice mail. Finding it strange that I wasn't answering, he'd swung by my apartment to see if he might be able to catch me there. He'd found my cell phone on the counter, the display showing a series of missed calls. Thinking that perhaps I'd called my own phone to determine its whereabouts, he checked the call list and dialed up the most recent number. When the call connected, it was not the sound of my voice that he heard, but that of a young, female, who answered with 'Heero, love, darling, sweetheart, where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for days. I need you, honey, I need your bed, are you going to be home tonight?'

How do I know this? Because when I finally did get a hold of Duo – in his apartment after returning to the resort because he wouldn't answer any of my calls – he told me. Screaming at the top of his lungs. Fuming with anger and betrayal. All while not-so-calmly stuffing everything that belonged to me, and everything I had ever given him, into a large plastic trash bag. I'd waited patiently for the tirade to end – punctuated with the bag being thrown against his front door and the words 'Now get the fuck out and don't ever come near me again' – before attempting to explain.

There was only one person that ever spoke to me like that, only one person aside from him that ever asked to sleep in my bed – and not, I might add, while I was in it. Oniera had an entirely innocent reason for doing it, though. She was Quatre's niece, the daughter of a much older sister, who interned at a hospital about 3 miles from our apartment. Whenever she got double shifts or had to work overnight, she'd ask to crash at our place. When she'd first asked me for the use of my bed I'd questioned it; it made more sense to me that she would ask Trowa since she knew him better – he was, after all, her uncle's boyfriend. But she had countered that the thought of sleeping in a bed where her uncle might have been having sex had not appealed to her at all. Under the circumstances I agreed. It cost me nothing to let her use my bed while I was out of it, and I hadn't been doing anything in it other than sleeping anyway.

My calm acknowledgement of Oniera, her request and my attempt to explain it were met with more screaming and more anger. He saw it as proof that I had deliberately cheated on him, that I didn't even have the decency to deny it, and that I'd blatantly lied about going to the funeral – always a stickler for him – to run off and have my tryst. It took me physically blocking him from leaving his own apartment and following him from room to room for several minutes, trying to talk over his yelling, before I was able to get him to listen to me. And even then, I'm not sure he completely believed me. When I left him that day, giving him the space he requested to calm down and give my words a chance to sink in, I think he'd still been afraid – very afraid – to put the hurt and betrayal aside. It was over the course of the next painfully tentative days that I'd learned of the root of his fears. He'd been cheated on before, fooled and humiliated so completely that he'd never trusted anyone like that again. Until me. And wasn't it just a kick in the head that the first serious hurdle we had to overcome in our relationship was the one thing he feared the most. For a while I had been hurting, too, facing up to the fact that he didn't quite trust me. It took some time, and a lot of effort, but eventually we both got over it. And I think it went a long way to solidifying a sense of trust between us.

So when the end of my second summer here rolled around, after having accepted work on additional phases of the initial one-year project, it was with little surprise that I found myself being asked to stay and live with him and even less surprise to find myself agreeing. How could I give up what he'd gifted me with? How could I leave and leave him behind? He was a part of my life, so closely intertwined that it warranted no thought, no effort, to say yes.

It's been three years, almost.

Three years since I met Duo Maxwell.

Three years since I fell in love for the first time.

Three years since warmth was restored to my heart and splendor restored to my life.

Finito (for real this time)

FINAL AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you, thank you, thank you! To everyone who has read, commented, and hung in there with me.

Special thanks to Link for her beta services and rather amusing commentary: I enjoyed reading your play-by-play feedback so much I've kept them all for the entertainment value alone.

Also, big, big huggly-thanks to the special ladies whose guest appearances hopefully come as a big surprise and (equally hopefully) as welcome ones: Your support and encouragement has meant the world to me.


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